What Happens in Vegas Series
by Bre-dust2dust34
Summary: What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas… right? Two people wake up together in a hotel room, naked, angry and wanting answers... (No longer being updated - please see A/N!)
1. Bad Morning

**A/N: So I've gotten a few PMs from people asking, "What the hell is the What Happens In Vegas series?" And my response is usually, "It's a crappy ficlet-based story that needed some room to breathe. (And I also started breaking the rules of the super awesome TwistedShorts challenge in August because I can't not write in chapter format so I got super fed up with myself and the story and started all over.)" Alas, I've gotten enough inquiries that I'm reposting it here and on TtH - and athankyou to those who did inquire. :D**

NO LONGER BEING UPDATED - it will only consist of the 12 ficlets! This is currently being rewritten as A Rush of Blood to the Head! Think of this unfinished story as that story's lackluster, funny cousin who was too skinny words-wise. (Additional A/N at the end if you make it that far...)

Bad Morning

By Bre

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. I don't own much of anything really. They belong to the minds of The Whedon and The Kripke.

Rating: R/FR18  
A/N: Made for my series What Happens In Vegas Series. This idea literally hit me the other night as I've been sick and lying in bed. In my crazy, sick thoughts, I wondered what would happen in Bre Land if this scenario played out… have heard this idea has been done before but I've avoided it like the plague so I don't accidentally copy!  
A/N 2: Day 1 of 31 in the twistedshorts community on LJ where you post a ficlet/short (between 300 and 3,000 words) every day of August. We'll see how long I can keep this up…  
A/N 3: Everything in this series is designed to be a one-shot but the plot line will follow the two characters throughout this revelation. In theory, along with each post, it will be a day in their lives.  
Pairing: Buffy/Dean (BtVS/SPN Crossover)  
Word Count: 1,995  
Timeline: Post Season 7 for BtVS, definitely. For the sake of this series, I won't play too much in Season 8. And random SPN. We'll see where it falls as the series gains speed…

Summary: TwistedShorts Challenge. Day 1: What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas… right? Two people wake up together in a hotel room, naked, angry and wanting answers…

* * *

It had been a long damn time since Dean Winchester had fallen asleep in a bed as soft as the one he laid in. It felt delicious, heavenly… like goose feathers were stuffed into the mattress and the sheets were made of silk or some crap. He didn't even care, it felt good as he stretched his arms, his hand knocking into the headboard. Smacking his lips, he tasted the familiar flavor of old whiskey still on his tongue and he groaned, propping himself up on an elbow.

"Oh, Christ," he mumbled to himself, rubbing his eyes before squinting them open. It only served to let him know that his head felt like someone was thundering the hammer of Thor against his skull as the bright sunlight pierced directly through his brain, his hangover bursting at the seams. "Ugh," he moaned, closing his eyes, falling back on the bed. Goddamn, how much did he drink last night?

He barely remembered anything past entering the strip club on the Strip. Not a good sign. Where was Sam? Better, more urgent question, where the hell was he?

Forcing his eyes open, Dean blinked rapidly as he let them adjust to the sun streaming in through the floor to ceiling windows that dominated one side of the suite. He frowned at them as he looked around before rolling onto his other side – and right into his bedmate.

"Oh, crap," he said softly, backpedalling quickly and he watched with wide eyes as the woman in bed with him mumbled something, her head moving as she turned around to face him, still asleep. She adjusted just enough for the sheet to fall down to her waist as she settled on her stomach. Dean raised an eyebrow at her when she absently wiped her face of drool before falling deeper into rest. "Oh, crap."

Dean would be a lying bastard if he didn't admit right then and there that this was a damn hot woman. He wondered if he should feel a little bit of shame for being grateful he hadn't picked up one of Hell's hellions in his drunken stupor as he'd done before. Raising his eyebrows in appreciation, Dean checked her out. Ridiculous amounts of sex-tangled, blonde hair? Check. Smooth, pale, taut skin? Check. Super toned and sexy body? Check. Cute face despite the smeared makeup? Check. Tattoo of a rose with some unreadable letters on a banner scrolling underneath it on her shoulder? Not check. Dean leaned in closer, snorting when he realized it was a temporary tattoo. What the hell had he gotten into last night?

It only led him back to the question of where the hell he was and where the hell Sammy was.

Looking around the room, Dean sat up, realizing he was naked. He smirked at himself. Rightio, got himself lucky last night… He saw scattered clothes all over the floor, the very expensive floor. He noticed one of his shoes was sitting on a table across the room, a bra hanging on a doorknob and panties that must belong to the luscious creature next to him hanging on the lamp on his side. He chuckled and took inventory of the room itself. Definitely, definitely not in Kansas anymore. They had to be at the Bellagio or that triangle place or somewhere…

Just then the woman next to him groaned loudly and he felt the bed shift as she moved around some more. Dean leaned back on the bed, watching her with a raised eyebrow as she shifted again, facing away from him. She kicked her legs a bit, causing the sheet to fall further down her body and Dean couldn't keep himself from staring as her bare ass came into view. He licked his lips before settling back down on his side. She stilled again and Dean pursed his lips before averting his eyes to the ceiling.

The demon they had tracked here had been taken care of last night. Boom, quick and easy exorcism and then it was fun times ahead… The last time Dean saw Sam was at the bar, he remembered, before they had parted ways with Sam going back to their crappy motel room while Dean took in some lovely female skin at a random strip club. So, this meant Sam was probably in their room, wondering where the hell Dean was which meant Dean should probably get up and call him, let him know he's not dead.

It also meant that Sam was safe in the motel room which meant Dean could roll over and partake one more time of this lovely little slice…

Dean bit his bottom lip as he turned to face the woman, his head instantly feeling better when his hand landed on the small of her back. She responded, goose bumps erupting underneath his fingers as he moved his hand up her spine. She let out a little sigh, pushing into his hand and he grinned. He touched her fake tattoo, parts of it already crumbling off her skin before gripping her shoulder and turning her towards him. She let out a little moan of protest, her face crinkling as she moved with him. It was almost too easy as Dean pulled her into his arms, licking his lips as she burrowed into his chest, once more grumbling under her breath. He heard something about letting the little jerks out before they killed each other but he ignored it as he put a finger under her chin, lifting her face and he pressed his lips against hers.

She didn't respond for a moment and Dean was about to pull away when she suddenly came to life in his arms. He couldn't tell if she was awake or not as she pressed her lips against his, pressing her naked body up against his, mewling like a cat in heat. She wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer and Dean went along gladly, enjoying the little moans she kept releasing as he rolled on top of her.

He could feel his body responding like the crack of a whip as she raised her legs, wrapping them loosely around him. The sheet was annoyingly in the way as Dean rubbed himself against her and she broke the kiss off, arching her back, pressing her breasts against him and Dean stared down at her. Good God, she was sexy as hell. Dean let out a short breath, all the blood in his body suddenly on fire as he responded. He shoved his face into her neck, his lips finding her pulse point. He felt the raised skin of a round scar on her neck and he ran his tongue over it. He felt one of her hands on the back of his head, pushing him further into her and he bit down gently. She let out a breathy moan, her fingers curling into his hair and Dean was about ready to rip the sheet away when she suddenly stiffened.

And then her hands were on his shoulders as she pushed him off of her with inhuman strength, her legs suddenly nowhere near him. Dean furrowed his brows in confusion as he met her eyes and all he saw was green fury before he was shoved away. Dean let out a little yelp as the momentum from her push caused him to roll off the bed and land right on his ass.

"Son of a bitch!" he growled, slapping the bed before standing quickly. He grabbed the sheet to cover himself but she was already on the other end, holding it to her chest as she glowered at him.

"Who the hell are you?" she snapped.

"Whoa, whoa!" Dean responded, holding the little bit of sheet he had managed to grab, covering himself as best he could. He felt like a jackass, standing in the middle of the room with the corner of a sheet barely covering him and he waved a hand at her. "Don't look at me like I did anything wrong here, sweetheart."

"Sweetheart?" she mocked angrily, tugging on the sheet with that same crazy strength and Dean gaped as the sheet slipped through his fingers and he scrambled for his pillow. She was glaring at him and Dean returned the favor. "Why don't you start by explaining who you are and why you are in my room?"

"Okay, hey, let's calm down, shall we?" Dean said, holding a hand up in supplication as the other pressed his pillow against himself.

"Calm down?" she spat, rolling off the bed and wrapping the sheet tighter against her body. "I just woke up to you molesting me!"

"What?" Dean asked incredulously. He waved at the bed. "I sure as hell was not the only one doing anything!"

She opened her mouth to respond before snapping it closed. She looked at the bed, her face quizzical and Dean cocked his head as he watched her put two and two together. He nodded his head when she suddenly looked at him in surprise.

"Oh, my god," she said, "We slept together."

"Yeah." He gave her a plaintive smile. "It happens."

"Oh, my god," she said to herself, running a hand through her hair. "Oh, my god, I slept with some random guy… In Las Vegas… Oh, god."

"Whoa, calm down, there," Dean said. When she looked at him, he smiled. "It can't be that bad."

"That bad?" she squeaked before turning around and pacing away from him. Dean watched her, his face unsure as she suddenly whipped around. "What happened last night?"

Dean shrugged. "Beats me," he said as he leaned down to grab his boxers where they laid next to the bed. He picked them up, holding them as he watched his mystery woman pace around the suite, talking to herself and making her already bedridden hair even more tangled. And sexy. Damn sexy. Damn, this woman had hot written all over her, even when she looked like she was about to melt into a puddle of stress. Dean shook his head before quickly dropping the pillow and shimmying into the boxers. He took a deep breath, holding his hands up to once again try to calm her down when he caught a glint.

A glint. On his left hand. Dean looked down, not even thinking about it, when he saw a ring on his finger. Not even his finger, but _the_ finger.

"Oh, shit," he said softly, bringing his left hand up to face level, his hand with the cheap, gold ring on his ring finger. He felt his chest suddenly bottom out, his heart drop to the floor with a loud, angry, wet smack. "Oh, hell no."

"Oh, my god, I'm going to kill her, I'm going to kill Faith and then I'm going to kill Giles and then I'm going to kill what's-her-face when we find her and then I'm going to just kill something that just needs killing," he heard her mumbling to herself as Dean, his mouth hanging open, turned to look at her.

"Uh…" he started but she interrupted him, waving a hand at his face, the universal sign of Shut Up. She waved her left hand and he caught the same glint and he just blinked at her.

She suddenly turned and glared at him. "And you! You just… you just walk around like some hot guy thinking you can just… just sleep with me!" she said, her words running together before she noticed he was just staring at her, his hand hovering in front of his face. Dean watched her stop, frowning when she saw his hand. And then she paled. Even more pale than she already was. Her eyes widened, her lips going slack as she lifted her own left hand up and saw a matching gold ring on it.

She let out a little stressed sound and Dean saw her hand shaking before she whispered, "Oh, no…"

The End


	2. This is Dean My Husband

This is Dean… My Husband

By Bre

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. I don't own much of anything really. They belong to the minds of The Whedon and The Kripke.  
Rating: R/FR18 (overall)  
A/N: Made for my series What Happens In Vegas Series. Day 2 of 31 in the twistedshorts community on LJ where you post a ficlet/short (between 300 and 3,000 words) every day of August. Everything in this series is designed to be a one-shot but the plot line will follow the two characters throughout this revelation.  
A/N: Italics indicate flashbacks.  
Pairing: Buffy/Dean (BtVS/SPN Crossover)  
Word Count: 2,324  
Timeline: Post Season 7 for BtVS, definitely. For the sake of this series, I won't play too much in Season 8. And random SPN. We'll see where it falls as the series gains speed…

Summary: TwistedShorts Challenge. Day 2: Faith gets a shock of a lifetime when she meets Dean.

* * *

Buffy Summers had always wondered what a panic attack felt like.

Despite the years of wandering through graveyards, battling the baddies, dying multiple times… she had always had a level of calm inside her that helped her keep her equilibrium. She was sure it had something to do with being the Slayer, that confidence that despite everything going on, she would be ready and could be ready for whatever came at her. But right now? She felt like someone was sitting on her chest while simultaneously sucking her blood out through a straw from her heart. She felt like panicking. Really, really bad panicking.

Buffy Summers was married. She. Was. Married. Freaking _married_.

"Oh, god," she moaned, dropping her head on the bar with a loud thud. She couldn't breathe. Breathing was becoming an issue and she inhaled quickly, choking on the tears that threatened to spill. She was married. To some random guy named Dean. She didn't know anything about him. She didn't even remember meeting him, what the ceremony – if you could call it that – was like. Hell, she didn't even know if the sex was good. "Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god."

She was a Las Vegas whore. That's what she was. Get a few drinks in Buffy and suddenly she grabs a random guy, marries him and then takes him up to her room. Buffy felt dirty and angry and annoyed and freaked out and too many other emotions for her to fully contemplate.

She needed to calm down.

But that was turning out to be really hard.

The cool wood of the bar felt amazing against her sweaty forehead but the air was thick and musty as it went into her lungs and she couldn't force it back out quick enough. Surely this is what a panic attack was. Or an anxiety attack. Or something that was attacking everything inside her body and making her feel like she was inhaling dirt.

The ring she had unceremoniously ripped off her finger felt heavy in her pocket although it was probably made of aluminum foil for all she knew. It was light and actually bent when she pressed it too hard which she felt like doing. Crumpling up the stupid little ring and throwing it away from her forever. Somewhere nobody could ever find it, somewhere where she was not married. Somewhere where she could travel back in time 24 hours and find her past self and slap the crap out of her.

"_What the hell is this?" Buffy asked urgently, pointing to her finger, forgetting the sheet that had been wrapped securely around her body. She watched the man who she had shoved right out of bed just a moment ago just stare at her and she couldn't hold back the shriek, "What the hell is this?!"_

"_I…" he started, staring dumbly at his own finger. "I don't know."_

"Jesus, B!"

Buffy stiffened and cringed at the same time, lifting her head slowly to turn around. She saw Faith's face for an instant before she felt her hand slap her shoulder painfully.

"Ow," she grumbled half-heartedly, closing her eyes and turning back to the bar. A condensating drink sat before her, waiting to be touched. She had told the bartender, "Something with lots of alcohol that will make me forget everything about today," and he had obliged. But she hadn't touched it yet. Wasn't this how she got into this position in the first place?

"Where the hell have you been?" Faith Lehane demanded, sliding into the chair next to her sister Slayer, slapping the bar. "You just disappeared last night with some random guy. I thought that was my gig, sister."

Buffy just shrugged, staring forlornly at her untouched drink. Faith waved a hand in front of her face, snapping her fingers before Buffy finally turned to look at her. Faith frowned, noticing the crappy job she did trying to clean the old makeup off her eyes. And the hair that looked like a howler monkey had built a nest in. "You look like shit."

"Oh, god," was all Buffy replied, her face crinkling and Faith watched the tears come forth before Buffy buried her face in her hands.

"Whoa there, B," Faith replied, pulling Buffy's hands from her face. Faith grabbed her chin, forcing her to look into her eyes. "What happened? You're acting like someone dropped an anvil on your head."

"I…" Buffy started but then her throat got dry, her chest got tight and her eyes widened as she stared at Faith. She what? She woke up in bed with a strange man wearing matching wedding bands after almost having sex after apparently having sex all night? "Oh, god."

Faith dropped her hands, leaning back in her own chair as she studied her. She watched Buffy turn back towards the bar, staring blankly at the array of bottles of alcohol behind the quickly moving bartender as she breathed way too quickly. Faith waved the bartender away when he paused in front of her, his eyebrow raised. It had been many days since she partook in a drink before noon. She might as well continue trying to be a good girl.

"Buffy."

No response.

"Hello…"

Nothing.

Faith reached out and smacked Buffy's shoulder again and Buffy barely flinched as she again turned to look at Faith. She looked stricken and Faith leaned forward again. "Giles has been ringing off the hook, B," she said. "We gotta find that girl. I guess she's a little more of a handful than they anticipated."

Nada.

"Okay, this is ridiculous," Faith sighed. She once again forced Buffy to look at her and Buffy moved like she was swimming in wet sand. "Are you stoned or something?"

Buffy shook her head. "No."

"Okay, I think that's enough drinky drinky for you, blondie," Faith said, pushing the full glass far away. "Let's get moving, we don't need Giles climbing up our ass because we screwed around for a night."

"I can't," Buffy said, shaking her head. "I…"

"You…" Faith prompted, waiting and Buffy gaped at her like a fish. Faith rolled her eyes at her. "You what? You can't move?"

"I did something last night," Buffy whispered, her face timid as she watched Faith. But nothing happened. Faith just smirked.

"It's Vegas, baby," she said with a lopsided grin. "Everybody does something with someone at some point. Now… let's go." Buffy didn't move. "Since when was I the good one, huh?"

They had to move quickly according to Giles' voicemail this morning. Rather, his third voicemail. His first had been a rather stutter-filled event of wondering why Buffy wasn't answering her cell phone and if they had managed to locate the girl who was a Slayer and didn't know she was a Slayer in the City of Sin. The second was a more forceful inquiry into what they were doing and why they were ignoring his calls. The third voicemail came along with a, "Bloody brilliant," as he relayed the information about the girl they were there for: she had that night been arrested for assaulting a police officer and she had escaped from their cuffs before she was taken to jail. Faith had gotten probably more amusement out of that than she should have but hey, girl's gotta have fun somehow, even if it's living vicariously.

Just then Faith watched Buffy pale visibly. She actually matched the crappy t-shirt she wore that, now that Faith was paying attention, you could see right through. Good thing the chick was wearing a bra, damn. And she was looking over Faith's shoulder. Buffy started breathing heavily and Faith turned to see what the commotion was.

And hello, sexy, salty, delicious goodness. Faith lifted her eyebrows as he walked towards them, timid in his own right, wearing low-hanging jeans and a black t-shirt. He wiped his hands on his thighs, not even glancing at Faith and she turned to Buffy with a sly grin. "Shit, B, is that the guy from last night? Did you get lucky?"

Buffy just made a squeaking noise before suddenly holding her breath as the guy stopped next to them. Faith turned to give him a smile, licking her lips. She watched with amusement as he finally noticed her and she almost laughed when he did a little double take, a little smirk playing on his lips like he was pleased with what he saw before some realization hit him and then he looked terrified.

"Hey," was all he said, his eyes having a hard time focusing on either of them. Faith glanced at Buffy and saw that she just stared at him, looking like a deer about to get slaughtered by a Mack truck.

"Hey, yourself," Faith said in a silky, knowing voice. "I take it you two… know each other?"

At the same time that Buffy said, "No!" the mystery man said, "Yeah," in a shaky voice and Faith chuckled, turning to look at Buffy.

"Okay…" Nobody moved and Faith rolled her eyes, putting her hand in Dean's face. "I'm Faith."

"Dean," he replied, taking her hand. Faith almost pointed out that his palms felt like they had been in a swimming pool but she stopped when she saw his nervous glances at Buffy. Who still hadn't moved an inch.

"And I take it you know Buffy," Faith continued, pointing towards the lady in question. She didn't see the look Dean shot her though as Buffy suddenly broke eye contact with everyone. She shoved out of the barstool.

"I have to go."

"_I need to get out of here," Buffy said, holding the sheet too tightly against her naked body and she watched Dean just stare at her. He hadn't moved, had barely breathed in the last few minutes and she felt like the walls were closing in on her. "I need to go. You… you need to go and… and not come back!"_

"_Okay, hang on, hang on," Dean said, holding his hands up. He once more looked at the ring on his finger and Buffy felt like screaming. "We should… I don't know, we should talk or… something."_

"_Ooh, no," Buffy replied, her voice shaky as she turned in a circle, looking for some clothes, any clothes. "I can't. I just… can't. I can't. I can't believe I… oh, my god." She buried her face in one of her hands, the panic eating away at her nerves._

"Oh, no you don't," Dean said and reached out to grab her arm before she could take off. Faith would later look back and think about how it was like watching everything in slow motion. She could see Buffy already reeling back, her hand forming a fist as she turned quickly and suddenly punched the mystery man in the face. And hell as all hard to boot as Dean suddenly flew back a few feet and landed on his ass. A few people let out shouts of alarm as others both got out of the way and crowded around to see what the commotion was.

"Holy crap!" Faith shouted, jumping from her seat. She glared at Buffy. "What the hell was that?"

Buffy's lips formed a little 'o' as Dean groaned on the floor, mumbling a wealth of profanities under his breath as he rolled to his feet. He held his jaw where a dark, red welt was already forming, his eyes a dark, liquid metal of anger as he too glared at Buffy. Faith held her hands up between them. "Alright, somebody needs to explain this. And you need to do it right now."

"Is everything alright here?"

Faith turned to see a studly young man wearing a security uniform stepping out of the crowd where they formed a circle around the trio. She instantly switched gears, shooting him a smile as she shook her head. "Just a lover's spat."

"_Wait, let's stop here," Dean said, moving around the bed and taking a step towards Buffy but she took three more back and he frowned. "What's your name?"_

"_Oh, god," she breathed, holding a hand to her chest. "I slept with a guy and I don't know his name. Oh, god, he doesn't know my name!"_

"_He's standing right here," Dean said helpfully, his voice a tick away from becoming impatient. "I'm Dean."_

"_I'm gonna throw up."_

"Yeah," Dean piped in, his voice mocking, his eyes never leaving Buffy's, his hand still rubbing his chin. "A lover's spat." He didn't glance at either Faith or the security officer as he honed in on Buffy, sidling up next to her. Her face melted into an angry frown as he once more grabbed her arm and Faith was sure if people hadn't been around, Buffy would have slammed his face into the ground. With her pinky, just to make a point. Once again, since when was she the good one?

Buffy shot the security officer a tight smile as she said with gritted teeth, "We're fine."

"Well, how about you two take it outside, huh?" the man said, waving his hands at them and Dean nodded in agreement.

"Yes," he said, staring down at Buffy and she met his eyes. "Let's go outside, honey."

And then Faith noticed something. Something really strange given the circumstances. Dean wore a ring on his left hand, on his ring finger. A gold wedding band and she gasped, stepping between them. She grabbed his hand, pulling it up to eye level and Dean tried to pull it away, his face matching the panicked look on Buffy's but Faith wasn't having any of that crap.

"Oh, my shitting god," Faith said, her eyes wide as she turned to Buffy, "Tell me this means he's married to someone else, B."

Buffy opened her mouth but no sound came out and Faith's jaw dropped to the ground.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me – you got married?!"

The End


	3. What Now?

What Now?

By Bre

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. I don't own much of anything really. They belong to the minds of The Whedon and The Kripke.  
Rating: R/FR18 (overall)  
A/N: Made for my series What Happens In Vegas Series. Day 3 of 31 in the twistedshorts community on LJ where you post a ficlet/short (between 300 and 3,000 words) every day of August. Everything in this series is designed to be a one-shot but the plot line will follow the two characters throughout this revelation.  
A/N 2: Italics indicate flashbacks.A/N 3: While this does follow one plotline, each installment is meant to stand alone at the same time for the requirement of the challenge. So this series will be stilted at best and not as smooth and pretty as a chapter story.  
Pairing: Buffy/Dean (BtVS/SPN Crossover)  
Word Count: 2,580  
Timeline: Post Season 7 for BtVS, definitely. For the sake of this series, I won't play too much in Season 8. And random SPN. We'll see where it falls as the series gains speed…

Summary: TwistedShorts Challenge. Day 3: Dean freaks out about his new relationship status.

* * *

Sam Winchester swung the door open to the motel room in answer to the urgent knocks, his face already a mixture of annoyance, anger and he was ready to ream his brother after not coming back all night and not answering his phone all morning, but he didn't get the chance as Dean swept into the room, barely glancing at him. Sam paused, frowning before shutting the door with a slam and turning to face him.

Dean was already in motion, moving around the room like he was lost, looking around for something; his face scrunched upon not finding it before he made his way into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

"Dean!" Sam called after him, following and pounding his fist on the door. "Dude, I called you all freaking morning, where have you been?"

"Shut up, Sam!"

Sam made a face. "You know, there's a reason you have five different cell phones, jerk. So you can at least pick one of them up."

He didn't respond and Sam heard the toilet seat slam when Dean threw it up. Sam could hear it ricochet against the tank and slap back down and Dean cursing wildly as he once more slammed the toilet seat back up. Sam threw his hands up, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. He sighed, moving back to the bed where his laptop was set up next to a police scanner.

"There was a reason I was calling, Dean," Sam continued, his voice loud so his brother could hear. Dean still didn't respond and Sam stared at the door expectantly. "It looks like there might be another job in town."

"Son of a bitch," he heard from the other side of the door before the toilet flushed and suddenly the shower came on.

Sam rolled his eyes before shaking his head. He went back to the laptop, picking up where he had left off scrolling through old newspaper headlines in Las Vegas. Not exactly an easy job as it was literally the heart of Crazyville. There was a weird story every other page, it seemed. But nothing about an abnormally strong girl appeared just yet. At least one who could efficiently knock out two burly cops with the flick of her wrist, slip her cuffs and run off without even being seen. A girl who was apparently bordering 110 lbs. Definitely not normal.

Sam glanced at the door when another series of growled curse words came through the wood and then the shower shut off.

_"Alright, this is the part of the story where we figure out what the hell we do next."_

_Dean Winchester looked expectantly at the tiny blonde standing next to him in the stuffy elevator as it whipped them up towards her room. The stacked brunette that had been sitting with his… Dean felt his stomach drop into the floor as he tried to think the "w-word" but he couldn't even start it without wanting to break out in hives… She had shoved them into the elevator and told them they, "Needed to figure this crap out or Hell was going to open up and eat them."_

_This crap being the fact that somehow they had wound up married._

_Dean brought a hand up to his mouth, his eyes never leaving the side of Buffy's face as his mind whipped through every single possible avenue of how this could have possibly happened. He felt like he was in a nightmare. A nightmare that had some pretty nice wrapping but a freaking nightmare nonetheless. There wasn't a way in cold or hot Hell he would have even suggested marriage to anybody so it had to have been her idea. Obviously, right. And he had to have been so damn wasted – wasted enough that he couldn't hardly remember the night in question – that he had said yes. Like a goddamn moron. Rather, a goddamn horny moron who probably just wanted to pull her pants down right there in front of… oh, Christ, probably Elvis… and have his way with her after a" tiny hurdle" like getting freaking married…_

_Yeah, that sounded more like him._

_Dean groaned and Buffy glanced at him, the same terror he felt inside written all over her face before she looked away._

_She wasn't saying anything. Instead, she had her arms crossed and she just stared at her reflection in the golden-doored elevator. Dean waved his hand in front of her face and he didn't get a chance to breathe before she moved quicker than he could see and smacked his hand out of the air. It felt like someone had taken a rock and smashed it into his bones and Dean whipped it back, snapping, "Ow!"_

_Buffy just shook her head, biting her lower lip as she watched the progress of the elevator, the little numbers lighting up with each floor. When it dinged on hers, she looked ready to peel the doors open before they finally did it themselves and then she was gone._

"_Hey!" Dean said loudly, following her out and he barely caught a glimpse of her before he heard the door to her room slam shut. "Damn it."_

Dean stared at the water droplets in the rusted tub. He wanted to shower but he didn't want to shower. Hell, he wanted to eat but he didn't want to eat. The only thing he really felt like doing was drinking. A lot. Everything felt and looked foreign all of a sudden and he wondered how he was still standing, still moving, still operating. He severely hoped this was actually a really, really messed up dream and he would wake up in the Impala to the crap soft rock music Sam listened to when he thought Dean wasn't paying attention.

That would be so awesome right about now.

Dean rubbed his face, taking a deep breath before looking once more at the ring on his finger. It was still there. The pit of despair that was nestled in his stomach was still there... It was all too real. Dean didn't blink as he glared at his hand, his eyes burning the longer he stared. And then he ripped the ring off and shoved it into his pocket, wondering what had taken him so long take the monumentally stupid thing off in the first place.

Shock, horror, fear… All of the above.

Dean turned and opened the bathroom door, his eyes immediately finding Sam where he perched on one of the beds. His unmade bed while the other one was clean and tucked in – obviously not slept in. It only reminded Dean of everything that had happened in the last few hours. He felt like shoving his face into a bucket of bleach.

He watched Sam shoot him an impatient glance and Dean just stood there stupidly, wondering what exactly he should say…

"Sam, we can't leave Vegas yet," he said dumbly, staring at his brother. Sam looked up at him, his mouth open to argue or snap at him or laugh at him, Dean didn't know, before it melted into concern.

Sam cocked his head. "Dude, what the hell happened to your face?"

Dean reached up without thinking to rub his jaw where he knew the very large and very black and blue bruise was sitting and instantly regretted it when he stuck his finger on the bruised bone. Jesus, the woman could throw herself a decent right hook. He winced. "It's… kind of part of why we can't leave… yet."

"Oh." Sam furrowed his brow. "So you know about the girl?"

Dean was sure someone had just shoveled out his lungs when Sam spoke and he stopped breathing for a minute. "The girl?"

"Yeah. The reason we aren't leaving? That's why I called you, like, fifty times earlier." Sam rolled his eyes in his annoyance, like the damn big bitch he was. Dean only wished his biggest problem was dealing with Sam. "It looks like there's another job in town." He waved some printed pages in Dean's direction but Dean barely acknowledged it, bringing a hand up to his suddenly twisting stomach as the girl in question was not… his girl. Or the girl. Whatever. He made his way towards his bed and sat down heavily on the edge, staring at the opposite wall. Sam watched all of this, frowning. "Dean?"

"Yeah," Dean replied dryly and then he turned to Sam. "Sam, I'm married."

_Dean rode back down the elevator, staring at the wall. Okay. So… right. No memory of the night before. Wake up next to sexy woman. Find wedding ring. Got married. Dean breathed in too quickly as his thoughts whirled, causing him to cough it back out as the elevator dinged open on the main lobby level._

_He stepped out and looked around. What now?_

"_What the hell are you doing back down here?"_

_Dean turned and found the same lovely lady that had shoved him in that stupid elevator in the first place with his little hellion – Faith – coming up next to him. She grabbed his shoulder and attempted to push him back in but Dean slipped out of her grasp. She gave him a hard look before bringing a cell phone back to her ear. "Giles, I gotta call you back… I'll tell her to call – yes, I will!"_

_Faith snapped it shut without a further word before putting her hands on her hips. Dean just stood there._

"_You," she said, pointing a finger in his face. "Explain."_

There was a brief moment of tense silence before Sam laughed. "Ha ha, hilarious… I get it, Vegas, Elvis, eloping…" Sam nodded his head congenially. "Is that the cover story for where you were last night? Did you steal some midget's girlfriend?"

Dean just stared at him, not responding, his eyes wide. Sam chuckled and then he stopped, his face turning serious when Dean didn't reply. "Oh, god. You're not joking." Dean looked away, his face a blanket of the same shell-shocked look he kept reverting to before shaking his head. "What?"

Dean shrugged.

"What? Dude, I…" Sam shot off the bed. "Are you freaking serious?"

Dean shrugged again. Sam watched him incredulously as Dean actually looked chastised. He stretched out his leg to reach into his jean pocket, pulling out the gold band and holding it up. Sam stared at it, his mouth hanging open.

Dean let out a nervous chuckle. "I… I don't know, man," he said by way of explanation and Sam just blinked before running his hands through his hair.

"As if we don't have enough problems, Dean," he said, turning around in a slow circle before pacing away and then making his way back towards him. "So… is it… are you… What? How could you be so …" He paused before sitting down on his own bed once again, shoving the laptop and scanner aside. He leaned towards Dean, his hand out for emphasis. "Okay, there are… things we can do. Like… annulment… Um." Sam paused. "Did you, you know, uh… consummate the… relationship?"

Dean couldn't hold back the self-satisfied smirk on his face. "Oh, yeah," he said with a little chuckle before remembering why everything was happening the way it was happening and then he frowned. "At least I think so… Why? Is that bad?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know." Dean made a stressed noise, burying his face in his hands. Sam frowned at him. "What do you mean you don't know? You don't know if you… slept with her?"

"Oh, god, Sam," Dean groaned. He shrugged helplessly. "Man, I woke up in a strange room this morning with this… super hot freaking chick and I thought, hey, awesome, jackpot… then…" Dean used his hands to elaborate, his eyes glued to them as Sam watched. "I… well, we started going at it and then suddenly she shoves me away and then suddenly I see a ring and she has a ring and then…" Dean let out another little noise before he bent over, his breaths coming too quickly.

"Okay, calm down," Sam said, nodding. He reached over to pat Dean's shoulder. "It's gonna be… okay, I guess."

"Calm down?" Dean demanded. He shoved Sam's hand away. "I'm freaking married, Sam!"

Sam opened his mouth to continue with the placating but he had nothing and Dean watched him, his face expectant before he shoved off the bed, throwing his hands up in the air. "I am not marriage material. I don't… marry. I… enjoy the goods and then I get the hell out!" Dean blew out a heavy breath. "Oh, god, I am somebody's… husband." He actually choked on the word and Sam stood up as well.

"Okay, let's stop for a minute and think." Dean nodded, forcing himself to take calming breaths but it did nothing to stop the rush of fear through his blood system. "You don't remember last night?"

Dean made a face and shook his head. He suddenly looked hopeful. "Well… she doesn't either. Maybe… maybe..."

_"Explain what?" Dean asked, realizing he had no idea who this woman was. He had no idea who the woman upstairs was…_

"_Oh, I don't know," Faith replied, her tone dripping with attitude. "How about how you and blondie upstairs are suddenly married?"_

"Dean, you can't just leave."

"Why not?" Dean demanded, pacing away. "It's not like getting married in Las Vegas is real, come on!"

"Well," Sam replied, "Do you have a marriage certificate?"

Dean stopped, his mind immediately racing back to when he had been in her room. A marriage certificate? Hell, he hadn't even thought about that. Although he had no memory of anything outside of her deliciously naked body and the ring that had been on his finger. And her finger. He barely remembered what the room looked like now that he thought about it.

"I don't… I don't know."

"Okay," Sam said encouragingly, "That's good. Maybe… maybe you just got really drunk and bought her… a ring. Because…" Dean waited for something more realistic to fall from his lips but nothing came.

"Damn it!" Dean growled, turning around to pace the motel room once more. It felt good, the abject terror turning into anger. Anger was something he could use, something he was used to. He could use anger to hurt things.

"So, where is she?"

"What?"

"Where's your…" Sam had the audacity to let out a little chuckle at the incredibleness of the situation as he continued and Dean turned to glower at him, "Wife?"

Dean gritted his teeth, his hands spastically forming fists before he punched thin air and turned back to his pacing. "She ran away from me."

Sam couldn't hold back his laugh and Dean once again turned, coming at him and Sam backed away, his hands up. "So what are you going to do?" he asked, more amused than he should have been considering.

Dean shook his head. "I don't freaking know, Sam."

"Well… you'll need to talk to her either way," he said, shrugging. Sam went back to his bed, pulling his laptop closer. He opened a new browser, typing in 'Las Vegas Annulments.' "You can't just say, hey, I got married and then hey, I'm not married anymore."

"I know that."

"So…"

"So…" Dean paused, his hands on his hips as he stared at the wall again. "So, I'm gonna to go take a shower."

And then he disappeared into the bathroom again.

The End


	4. Freaking Out

Freaking Out

By Bre

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. I don't own much of anything really. They belong to the minds of The Whedon and The Kripke.  
Rating: R/FR18 (overall)  
A/N: Made for my series What Happens In Vegas Series. Day 4 of 31 in the twistedshorts community on LJ where you post a ficlet/short (between 300 and 3,000 words) every day of August. Everything in this series is designed to be a one-shot but the plot line will follow the two characters throughout this revelation.  
A/N 2: Italics indicate flashbacks.  
A/N 3: While this does follow one plotline, each installment is meant to stand alone at the same time for the requirement of the challenge. So this series will be stilted at best and not as smooth and pretty as a chapter story.  
Pairing: Buffy/Dean (BtVS/SPN Crossover)  
Word Count: 2,522  
Timeline: Post Season 7 for BtVS, definitely. For the sake of this series, I won't play too much in Season 8. And random SPN. We'll see where it falls as the series gains speed…

Summary: TwistedShorts Challenge. Day 4: Dean finds his new wife in the bar of her hotel room.

* * *

"You didn't really think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?"

"_I have a better idea, princess," Dean Winchester said, his voice low as the pushy attitude from the bitchy brunette started chipping away at his patience. "Why don't you get your skinny ass upstairs and ask 'blondie' why the hell she is in this situation herself? Because she sure as hell isn't talking to me about it."_

_Faith Lehane smirked. "Oh, you don't even want to start with me, bud. From where I'm standing, you're the piece of crap that took advantage."_

_Dean narrowed his eyes before returning his own, cold smirk. But he didn't say anything because he didn't know what to say. He wakes up with a strange woman, finds out he's freaking married to her, barely catches her name before she runs away from him. And then she has the audacity to punch him when he tries to get answers before running away again. From his point of view, little blondie was the one who had some 'splainin' to do. In his book, it's the guilty that run._

"_So, what?" Dean asked, his tone dripping with malice. "Gonna beat me up even more than your freaky girlfriend already did?"_

_Faith shook her head. "You know, I actually thought you were kinda cute. Now I see you're just a dog like the rest of 'em," she sneered._

Buffy Summers felt a chill fall down her spine as he spoke in her ear from behind. His breath was hot on her skin and she bit her bottom lip before turning to look at him, narrowing her eyes. It could possibly be the three Long Island Iced Teas she had already partaken of but she was pretty sure Dean had somehow gotten hotter. And much less annoying. And also the urge to hit him was no longer there. Alcohol was amazing like that.

She smirked. "It was worth a try."

Dean didn't reply, slipping his arms on either side of her so he could lean on the bar, towering over her. Buffy snorted out a laugh at the obvious movement of a Macho Man but he ignored it. "Drinking in the same bar of your hotel room where we woke up together this morning? That's real smooth. Especially after dodging me all day."

Buffy shrugged, turning away from him. She was also putting in the Pretty Sure category that she was clearly buzzed enough to feel no reason to protect herself in that moment. This guy, this random guy whom she happened to apparently be married to and who she only knew as Dean, was basically trapping her in her spot but she didn't care. She didn't feel an ounce of worry. Buffy nodded to herself, ignoring his arm where it slid across the back of her chair as he sat down next to her. Definitely drinking too much.

But it tasted so good. And he looked really good.

Definitely, definitely drinking too much.

Buffy gave him a blithe smile. "So… what?" she asked. She slid her empty glass away as she turned to face him. She had spent the better part of her day lying in bed upstairs, trying to force herself to remember everything that had happened the night before thinking about what Giles would think. And then Dawn. Then she thought about what Xander would think followed by what her mother would do if she could hear this rattling news before starting all over again. The little sleep she had managed to get was punctuated with wedding veils and Las Vegas Elvis' serenading her and when she finally got up for a shower, she almost had a heart attack when she saw the fake tattoo on her shoulder.

So a drink had definitely been in order and with Faith out doing recon on the missing Slayer they were there to find while Buffy was catatonic – Faith's exact words were, "Leave it to you to fall apart after marrying the biggest dick in Las Vegas" before she had left – and Buffy thought it was the perfect opportunity to drown herself in massive amounts of alcohol before being a big girl about it. She had also hoped against hope that her mystery man had ditched town and she could put this behind her forever. What happened in Vegas, stayed in Vegas, right?

Ha.

Dean shrugged, his arm still across the back of her chair, keeping her close so she couldn't up and run away from him again. He gave her lame smile before waving the bartender down. He ordered two shots of tequila and a beer. "How about I get drunk enough to even begin having this conversation?"

Buffy made a face before turning to the man behind the bar. "I'll have the same." She smiled at Dean, giving him a conspirator wink. "Drinking is good for conversations like this."

Dean frowned at her as she turned to flash a brilliant smile at the bartender and he took a moment to appraise her. Oh, yes, she was definitely getting drunk. And oh, yes, she was definitely still one hell of a sexy woman. Instead of the workout clothes she had blindly thrown on that morning before ditching him in her room, she now wore a pair of low slung black pants and a sticky blue t-shirt with a deep V. Dean licked his lips. He knew damn well why he had wanted to get into those pants. She had pulled her hair back this time though and Dean suddenly got a flash of a lot of blonde hair, his face buried in it in the back of a cab while she straddled him before the memory was gone again. Dean jerked back, shaking his head and Buffy turned to look at him. She raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything as their drinks arrived.

"So where's your ring?" Buffy asked, grabbing her first shot. It should feel like she was rubbing salt into her wounds considering how much she had wanted to call up Willow and ask her to erase her memory. Or if there was a way to travel back in time. But alcohol both made the world a fuzzy happy place while at the same time making everything seem so much less important. Like wedding rings. And being married. She studied the bruise on his jaw from earlier. "Oh. And… sorry about that whole punching you thing."

Dean snorted at her, shooting her a mocking smile. "Oh, yeah, that was nothing. Darn those fists flying around like that." He slammed back one of his tequila shots before dropping the glass on the bar with a thud. "It just happens."

Buffy glared at him. "You grabbed my arm."

"You were running away from me."

"Yeah," Buffy said, still holding her first shot as Dean inhaled his second. "Because you forced me into marrying you like some big, stupid… jerk!"

"Wow," Dean mused, shaking his head. "It's nice to know you're so articulate."

"Oh, bite me," Buffy ground out and she brought the disgusting amber liquid up to her lips, squeezing her eyes shut as she threw her head back, letting the liquid fall down her throat. It burned like a holy mother rite but she bit her tongue, fighting the urge to blurt out her disgust. Instead, she made a face as the burning sensation passed.

Dean leaned closer. "Don't tempt me, sweetheart."

Buffy laughed, leaning in towards him as well. The closer she was, the more in focus he became which meant the more she realized she really liked the way his face was shaped… and he also smelled really, really good. "Oh, trust me, you don't scare me."

Dean narrowed his eyes, an amused smirk on his lips as he got close enough to press his lips to hers. "So what happened last night, Buffy?" he asked, enunciating her name and Buffy lifted an eyebrow. "The details are a little unclear."

Buffy glanced down at his mouth, her thoughts suddenly leaving her. She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and she watched Dean's eyes dart to it and suddenly there was nothing else in the room but him. She only saw his mossy eyes, the freckles dusting his nose and his cheeks… the small scar on his cheek, the plump lips… Buffy leaned forward before a light bulb went off in her head and she shook her head, pulling back quickly. She smacked Dean's arm and he reeled back, growling out, "Stop doing that!"

"_You_ stop doing that!" she snapped back. She sat back in her seat, crossing her arms. "You need to move."

"What?"

"Move away. Move somewhere else. Away from me," Buffy replied definitively. "This? This, right here?" she asked, waving her hand in his face. "This is how you did it, didn't you? You used your sexy charm and… sexy charmed your way into my pants. And my ring finger!"

"Good god, do you even hear yourself?" Dean asked. He snagged her second shot and took it down himself, enjoying the rich burn in his throat, feeling it trace down into his stomach. She blanched at him and he smirked.

Buffy leaned in again. "So you don't feel it?" she asked, thinking she should be angry or sound angry but it sounded incredulous instead, like she couldn't believe she was the only one feeling this magnetism, this pull. Or maybe it was the tequila doing the talking... "You don't want to kiss me right now?"

Dean frowned at her. "You're drunk," he said, matter of fact. "And… I'm not answering that."

"Ha," Buffy said, putting her finger in his face and Dean glowered at her. "You do."

Dean rolled his eyes, looking away. He caught the bartender's eye and motioned for another order of tequila. He knew that drinking was a one-way path towards The Worst Idea Ever but he needed it – badly. Because he was feeling that familiar trill of terror inside, the anger he had carried with him after talking to Sam about freaking solutions dissipating. There was no solution right now but drinking. Because he did want to kiss her. He did want her. And it made him think about what he would do to kiss her, to slip his hand down her pants, to rip that shirt off… The lengths he would go…

Dean groaned, running a hand down his face as the two empty shot glasses before him were filled. He smiled his thanks before drinking them both.

"Oh, nice," Buffy snorted. "So you're ignoring me."

Dean took a deep, steadying breath before turning to look at her. She was leaning on the bar, her eyes a little glassy as she watched him and Dean's eyes fell directly into what looked like some pretty ample cleavage considering there wasn't much to work with. Dean more felt than saw any memory of his hands removing a bra before cupping... Dean licked his lips and met her eyes. "I think you want me ignoring you right now."

Buffy shook her head. "No. No, I…" She paused as she met his eyes again. Dean watched her eyes fall to his lips again and he found he couldn't pull his away from her. He wanted her to both keep talking while at the same time climb on top of him and have her way. He wanted her to not stop doing anything and he found that the little shiver of terror he kept convincing himself he was feeling was quickly turning into something much more… carnal.

And bad. Oh, so bad but then again…

Suddenly Buffy leaned forward, pressing her lips to his. Her hands were suddenly on his jacket, grabbing the lapels, pulling him in closer to her. Dean didn't even think about what he was doing. Instead, he responded, wrapping an arm around her waist, the other holding the bar for leverage as he pressed her body harder against his, her breasts feeling way too good through her thin shirt, pushing against him. She mewled against his lips as the kiss intensified and Dean felt like the floor was being swept out from underneath him.

Hot freaking damn, the woman could kiss. And Dean found he couldn't get enough of her as he pushed his tongue into her mouth, dueling with hers. He felt his lungs burning with the need to breath but she broke away first. Dean let out a shaky breath against her face and she pulled back a bit to look up at him. Underneath her eyelashes, her eyes brimming with what looked like passion and all sorts of 'let's do everything and more that we don't remember from last night' as she licked her lips. Dean was absolutely positive he had never seen anything sexier in that moment.

Buffy opened her mouth to say something but she stopped herself, looking confused for a moment and then she pushed him away. She covered her mouth, her eyes getting wide and Dean said, "Buffy, wait," but she was already out of her seat and walking away. Dean cursed as he got up to follow her.

Ignoring how the world spun slightly from his sudden intake of tequila, he caught up to her quick enough as she rounded the corner towards the elevators. Dean grabbed her wrist, pulling her back as he ducked into a nearby alcove, huddling her into a corner.

"You really need to stop running away," Dean said, his voice gravelly as he ducked down to meet her eyes but she avoided them, staring at the floor. His hand still loosely circled her wrist and he took it as a good sign that she hadn't pulled away – at least not nearly as violently as she had just that morning. He lifted his other hand to touch her but thought better of it. "Hey."

Dean watched her look up at him, barely meeting his eyes before darting down to his lips before meeting his gaze again.

"I'm freaking out," she said softly, her voice full of wonder, and Dean shrugged, offering her a tentative half-smile.

"Me too," he responded before taking her lips in his again, his arms coming up to wrap around her as he pushed her against the wall. Buffy responded willingly, opening her mouth to his, sliding up the wall effortlessly as Dean lifted her higher to match him. It was a like a dam of trepidation broke and elation and adrenaline blew up inside her and Buffy moaned into his mouth, pulling him closer.

Buffy hadn't felt this in years – this mad desire to touch, to be touched, to be kissed and to be ravaged. She was beginning to understand a bit more how last night had happened as Dean reached down, hiking up one of her legs as he pushed her further into the wall. Buffy broke the kiss but he didn't relent as he shoved his face into her neck, his lips immediately finding her scar, his tongue running over the oh-so-familiar bite mark and Buffy gasped in pleasure, whispering his name as she pulled him closer still.

The End


	5. What The Hell?

What The Hell?

By Bre

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. I don't own much of anything really. They belong to the minds of The Whedon and The Kripke.  
Rating: R/FR18 (overall)  
A/N: Made for my series What Happens In Vegas Series. Day 5 of 31 in the twistedshorts community on LJ where you post a ficlet/short (between 300 and 3,000 words) every day of August. Everything in this series is designed to be a one-shot but the plot line will follow the two characters throughout this revelation.  
A/N 2: Italics indicate flashbacks.  
A/N 3: While this does follow one plotline, each installment is meant to stand alone at the same time for the requirement of the challenge. So this series will be stilted at best and not as smooth and pretty as a chapter story.  
Pairing: Buffy/Dean (BtVS/SPN Crossover)  
Word Count: 1,670  
Timeline: Post Season 7 for BtVS, definitely. For the sake of this series, I won't play too much in Season 8. And random SPN. We'll see where it falls as the series gains speed…

Summary: TwistedShorts Challenge. Day 5: Things get a little more complicated between Buffy and Dean.

* * *

Buffy Summers slapped him.

Slapped him right across the cheek, the blow radiating in his cheek bone and reigniting the pain from where she had punched him square in the jaw just that very morning. And it hurt like a goddamn –

"Son of a bitch!" Dean Winchester growled, stumbling away from her, his back slapping against the opposite wall of the tiny alcove where he had pulled her into just a few minutes ago. A few blessed and entirely blissful minutes ago when the only activity had been tongue wrestling until she suddenly reverted into the She-Devil herself. Dean brought a hand gingerly up to his cheek, the sharp pain turning into a heavy thud as it reverberated inside his head in time with his heartbeat. "What the hell was that for?"

Buffy just stood opposite him, her face fixed into a loose scowl as she leaned against her wall. She opened her mouth to speak before snapping her mouth shut. She pushed herself off the wall, taking a shaky step away, putting her hands on her hips. She frowned at him, her voice slurring slightly from the alcohol she had ingested. "You were kissing me."

"Yeah," Dean said, his eyebrows raised as he gestured at her, "And I sure as hell wasn't the only one… goddamn, that hurt!"

As Dean focused on poking and prodding his cheek, Buffy stared at him, a mixture of confusion, anger and a slice of desire still on her face. Yes, she had slapped him. She had slapped him probably way too hard for his being a human but he had… he had made her kiss him. And made her think about asking him up to her room, again. Where everything that had gone wrong in this day probably started and here she was, thinking she should do it all over again. This was a logic that was incredibly sound right now and she focused on that.

"Leave me alone," she said softly, taking a few steps backwards toward the bustle of the main lobby and Dean shook his head.

"Oh, hell no," Dean growled, moving quickly towards her and she didn't even bother running when he once more grabbed her arm and pulled her back into the deep alcove. He still kept his distance though, Buffy noticed, but he didn't drop her arm. And she didn't mind that he didn't drop her arm. His skin was hot against her own suddenly chilled arm and it felt good and she thought about how much warmer it would be if she stepped in and wrapped her arms around his chest, underneath his jacket, and… No!

Buffy shrugged away from him, forcing herself to glare. This was bad, all of it.

"This is bad," she said.

Dean frowned at her. "Talking to you while you've been drinking has got to be its own damn Olympic sport."

Buffy glared at him, confusion melting into anger. "Screw you. I'm making perfect sense right now."

"Oh, yeah," Dean said, shoving a mocking smile down her throat, "Playing the hot and cold card is really working out well. First, you kiss me. You," he said, pointing at her before back to himself, "Kissed me. Then you slap the crap out of me for kissing you back. And then you look ready to crawl inside my skin and now you're back to being pissed as hell for no freaking reason."

"No freaking reason?" Buffy sputtered, giving him a little shove. The logical part – at least, the logical part of her brain in that moment that was swimming in a hot pool of tequila – of her brain knew she should keep pushing him away. Shove him, punch him, get him out of her face so she could just… not be around him. But there was another part of her that didn't mind. That wanted him closer, that didn't mind having him closer. It was oddly comforting and warming and she didn't like it. Not at all… it was bad. He was a human, some random guy, and she was a Slayer who had a new ticket in life that involved… a lot of babysitting… Buffy shook her head at her quickly unraveling train of thought. "We are married, jackass, did you forget that little tidbit?"

Dean chuckled hollowly. "No. In fact, that's why I came back." His eyes narrowed. "I'm beginning to see what could have happened. You get all hot and bothered except last night you just didn't stop."

"I didn't stop?" Buffy repeated but Dean didn't pause.

"You get some stupid crap romantic notion in your head about getting married in Vegas, grab the first guy you find and promise him happy land in your pants, am I getting this right?"

Buffy glowered at him, feeling that familiar urge to slap him again – harder than before. "You don't even know what you're saying."

"Actually," Dean replied, "I do. I'm just a poor sucker who's getting led around by his dick only to get pushed away – violently, I might add – when things get too heated. So, yeah, I think this was all you."

Buffy's lips curled up in her anger before she shoved him away. Dean didn't know what hit him as he slammed into the same wall, again, his head cracking against it and he let out a groan before he slid to the floor, his legs suddenly the same substance as Jell-o. Buffy didn't pause as she reached down, grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket and picked him up. Dean's face melted into shocked pain as she lifted him, holding him up against the wall.

"You don't know a _thing_ about me," Buffy spat, her jaw quivering slightly as she pushed him into the wall. "You think you know everything all of a sudden but you don't!"

"What the hell-"

"You think you can come around, get a little action and then blame all of this on me?" Buffy demanded, her words flowing together, slurring together as she held him, feeling stronger than she had in a long time. It felt good and she wanted to continue; she wanted to push him harder, farther into the wall until he disappeared. "Like I'm some little girl who doesn't know what's happening?"

"What?" Dean asked in exasperation, his hands on her wrists. His feet were barely grazing the ground where she stood and his head was spinning – both from the alcohol and wondering how in the blue fucking hell this little woman was holding him up like this without even breaking a sweat. Dean squeezed her wrists, trying to push them away but she wouldn't budge and he wondered how bad it would be if he kneed her in the chest…

And another really wonderful question was where the hell was all of this coming from? Meeting her eyes, Dean could feel the rage coming off of her in palpable waves. It was like he had accidentally kicked a wall inside her and the wanton creature he hadn't been able to keep his hands off a moment ago was suddenly replaced by a livid, fire-breathing crazy lady. A very strong, very scary freaking crazy lady.

He had accidentally married someone who was obviously not human. And he was amazed that there was something else about this woman that was going to make him lose his mind other than the fact that they woke up together, wearing the same wedding bands, with no memory of how any of it had happened…

Dean brought up his leg, his knee connecting solidly with her stomach and she gasped, her grasp loosening just enough for Dean to shove her hands away and push her off of him. He fell to his feet, his knees giving out slightly before he pushed himself up again. He stared at her and she frowned at him.

"Okay," he said, holding his hands up. He didn't want to say the wrong thing but he also wanted to know what the hell he had gotten himself into. For the first time in a long time, he felt like throwing up everything he had just drunk. "Uh…"

"Just…" Buffy started before pausing. She held up a hand, her eyelids fluttering as her own stomach convulsed. "Leave me alone."

"Right, yeah," Dean started, his tone mocking. "How about, no… How about you explain what the hell that was first."

"How about you go to Hell?"

"Not really on my bucket list, there, sister," he snapped back, his hands still up and Buffy rolled her eyes, throwing her hands up.

"I don't want to be married to you!"

"Oh, right," Dean replied, "Because I really want to be married to some lunatic too!"

Buffy grimaced at his words as the sliced through her and she let herself wonder for a moment why she was feeling such an intense rage-filled homicidal tendencies towards this guy. She was ready to reach over and rip his throat out all of a sudden and Buffy forced herself to take a few steps back.

"I… I can't do this." And then she turned and ran away.

Dean just watched her go this time, watched her disappear around the corner before he let himself relax just a bit. And in that moment, everything that had just happened slammed into him. He felt his heartbeat racing a million miles a minute, his palms were sweaty and the adrenaline that had been keeping him going instantly vanished. Dean leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath, his limbs feeling weak and liquidy.

He stared at the floor for a moment, running over everything, wondering what the hell it was that had just happened, when he felt his cell phone vibrating in his pocket. He pulled it out in a daze, snapping it open without seeing who it was and he lifted it to his ear. "Yeah?"

"Dean, hey."

"Sam," he replied, cutting off his brother before he could continue. "Sam, I think I… married a demon. Or an ax murderer."

The End


	6. Not My Night

Not My Night

By Bre

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. I don't own much of anything really. They belong to the minds of The Whedon and The Kripke.  
Rating: R/FR18 (overall)  
A/N: Made for my series What Happens In Vegas Series. Day 6 of 31 in the twistedshorts community on LJ where you post a ficlet/short (between 300 and 3,000 words) every day of August. Everything in this series is designed to be a one-shot but the plot line will follow the two characters throughout this revelation.  
A/N 2: Italics indicate flashbacks.  
A/N 3: While this does follow one plotline, each installment is meant to stand alone at the same time for the requirement of the challenge. So this series will be stilted at best and not as smooth and pretty as a chapter story.  
Pairing: Buffy/Dean (BtVS/SPN Crossover)  
Word Count: 1,763  
Timeline: Post Season 7 for BtVS, definitely. For the sake of this series, I won't play too much in Season 8. And random SPN. We'll see where it falls as the series gains speed…

Summary: TwistedShorts Challenge. Day 6: Dean's night gets none the easier when he runs into Faith. Again.

* * *

"Hi," Dean Winchester said, his voice smooth, a welcoming smile on his face, as he stepped up to the front desk of the hotel. A young woman stood behind the large counter and she raised an eyebrow, a tiny smile on her own face as she greeted him, "What can I do for you, sir?"

Dean's smile widened as he played the sheepish card, before leaning over to get closer to her. "I'm actually having a little trouble. See, I want to…" He made a face, waving his hand for story elaboration. "I want to surprise an old friend of mine but I just can't remember the damn girl's last name."

The woman behind the counter – Cynthia, according to her nametag – smirked knowingly, leaning forward as well, her voice hushed, "And let me guess. You want me to look her up right here, right now, on my trusty computer?"

"You are so right, Cynthia," he said with the same grin on his face, pointing at her nametag before nodding. "Now, I do know she's in room 1131."

"And this wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that your face looks like it went twelve rounds with Rocky, would it?"

Dean opened his mouth to respond before thinking better of it. He smiled, gesturing to his chin which did look like a black pit of despaired skin. "This is just… not about that at all."

Cynthia nodded. "Right. Well, I'm sorry but I can't help you."

"Can't?" Dean said, pulling out his wallet and slipping out a twenty dollar bill. He folded it and slid it across the counter. "Or won't?"

Cynthia eyed the money, snug beneath his fingertips before looking back at him. "Can't," she replied bluntly. And then she pointed to three black half bubbles on the ceiling directly above her before pointing at the two security guards near the entrance. "We have to protect the privacy of our guests, sir."

Dean followed her finger, giving the cameras an uneasy smile before meeting the gaze of one of the not-so-small men at the front doors. He didn't smile back. Dean raised his eyebrows, sliding the twenty back and into his jacket pocket. "Right."

Cynthia nodded to him. "Have a nice night, sir."

"Yeah," Dean replied, his tone losing its gusto. "Yeah, you too."

Friggin' Las Vegas and its friggin' laws and its friggin' crap about… crap. Dean sighed, rubbing his face. He instantly regretted it when his palm passed over his very bruised jaw and he groaned. He caught a few people out the corner of his eye staring at him and he turned to stare back, resisting the urge to ask them what the hell their problem was. The older couple looked away quickly, picking up their steps and Dean wondered if he looked like some hobo off the street. His clothes were all wrinkled from being manhandled like a freaking ragdoll and his face looked like it had made out with a two by four. Which, hell, it might as well have considering all the action it had seen. Kissing this Buffy chick was like making out with Freddy Krueger. There was never any happy ending – at least any he could remember.

The night had been a total bust. Dean's Las Vegas taste buds were starting to get extremely sour. This used to be a utopia of sound and excellent sin. That good, old fashioned sin where you could come and hang out and see the crazies, see the boobies, do the drinking, do the gambling and leave a little lighter in the morning. Now, it was becoming his worst nightmare. And considering his life, that was a not a tiny statement. This crap only happened in the movies, for the love all that was holy. Real life did not consist of waking up with no memory of the night before only to discover you're married to a stranger.

Dean Winchester was married to a crazy person. A crazy person with an even crazier name. Buffy? Really? It didn't help that he found he couldn't seem to keep his damn hands off of her whenever he was anywhere near her. This was usually something wet dreams were made of. The only downside was the hot chick freaked out whenever things started heading towards second base and instead of reacting like a sane, normal person by calmly assessing the situation and asking him to kindly remove his hands from underneath her shirt, she hit the shit out of him, babbling about who the hell knows what before running away.

What the hell? Seriously, what the hell?

Dean knew he had a bit of a drinking problem but at least he didn't feel the need to word vomit all over random people.

"Well, that's just great," Dean sighed, moving towards the exit when he saw the last person – scratch that, the second to last person in that moment – he wanted to see ever again. And she immediately spotted him herself.

"Oh, you gotta be freaking kidding me," the woman said, her Boston accent rolling off her tongue like molasses and Dean grimaced at her words. He fought the urge to turn around and run away himself. He did not need sass from his wife's overprotective pit bull of a girlfriend. Dean shook his head as she made her way towards him. He was too tired for this. Too tired to care that he just referred to the crazy lady who had just got done beating him after sucking on his tongue his wife.

All he had wanted when he came back to the scene of the crime was to find this Buffy chick, maybe talk a little bit about what had happened, find that stupid marriage certificate, burn the crap out of it and bury the ashes in the desert and then leave. Was that too much to ask for? Oh, and maybe get the stupid marriage annulled.

Dean never in his life thought he would be thinking 'I need an annulment.'"

"You don't even have to say it," Dean said, stopping the Faith chick before she could start her bitching. He held up both hands when she stopped in front of him. "Your girl already beat you to the punch. Literally. I'm gone."

Dean sidestepped her, making the move to step around and get the hell out of the stupid hotel where everything ever had gone wrong when he stopped, pausing. He turned back around. Faith Lehane raised an eyebrow.

"Actually, you know what?" Dean started and Faith rolled her eyes.

"This'll be rich," she said and Dean shot her an impatient smirk.

"You know, the weirdest thing happened just a minute ago with your friend Buffy," Dean continued, his voice putting too much emphasis on the blonde's name. "Although, first, I should tell you that the girl needs to keep her ass away from anything alcohol related because my face," Dean said, his voice taking on the familiar, gravelly anger, "Does not like being used as a punching bag."

Faith just watched him with an amused smile.

"But really, how does a tiny little slip of a girl like her lift me straight off me feet into the air and throw me into a wall?" Dean asked, his voice mockingly sweet and he felt an unsettling triumph when he saw Faith's face melt into confused concern. She opened her mouth but she didn't say anything and Dean cocked his head. "You don't look too surprised."

"Well… she's stronger than she looks," she said uncomfortably and Dean waited for more. Faith shrugged. "What the hell are you fishing for, huh? What do you want me to do, apologize or some shit?"

"How about you explain how someone who probably weighs 110 pounds soaking wet can do that, huh?" Dean demanded.

"Whoa, bro, you need to calm down. Like, now." Faith stepped up into his face. She offered him a fake smile. "What are you looking for, huh? A conspiracy? A reason to throw down or whatever?" Faith lifted her eyebrows before appraising him mockingly and Dean felt his ire rise even further and he clenched his jaw. "Trust me when I say you don't even know what you're getting into and the… healthiest thing to do? Is walk away."

Faith didn't budge and neither did Dean. After a tense moment, Dean smiled. "Yeah, I can't really do that. See, she thought it would be hilarious to marry me last night. And I don't really fancy being associated with someone named 'Buffy' any longer than I have to be."

Faith chuckled at his words and she took a step back. "Stupid is a two way street, sweetheart."

Dean frowned at her little nickname. "Sweetheart?"

Faith licked her lips, smiling before turning her back on him, heading towards the elevator bank. The minute she turned away, Faith rolled her eyes in annoyance, gritting her teeth. The last thing – the last freaking thing that this trip needed – was Buffy turning around and showing off her little muscles to the guy who really needed to learn how to disappear. For at least five minutes so she could stop the juggling act between Buffy, Giles and Mystery Disappearing Slayer Girl. This guy was getting a little too high on the annoyance charts. As it if wasn't enough that she upped and married the guy.

It didn't help that she had just spent the majority of the night walking through Las Vegas, getting her ass pinched by a creeper in a wheelchair on the Strip, running into a high Marilyn Monroe who tried to play sticky fingers with her and finding nada, zip, squelch on the girl she and Buffy were there to collect while Buffy played the part of a traumatic Las Vegas victim. Freaking new little Slayer girl suddenly gets a few superpowers and she thinks it's high time to dodge out of sight.

Faith was starting to get a little upset.

"You can tell her I'm not going away," Dean said loudly after her. "I'm not gonna stay freaking married to Freaky Deaky Barbie!"

Dean ignored the looks he was getting as his voice carried through the hotel lobby. Cynthia watched from behind her countertop with the same knowing look on her face while the guards looked ready to step in and assist the rest of his face with turning into a big bruise.

Faith barely gave him a glance over her shoulder as she pushed the elevator call button. And then she stepped in and she was gone.

"Damn it," Dean growled.

The End


	7. Let's Do This Thing

Let's Do This Thing

By Bre

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. I don't own much of anything really. They belong to the minds of The Whedon and The Kripke.  
Rating: R/FR18 (overall)  
A/N: Made for my series What Happens In Vegas Series. Day 7 of 31 in the twistedshorts community on LJ where you post a ficlet/short (between 300 and 3,000 words) every day of August. Everything in this series is designed to be a one-shot but the plot line will follow the two characters throughout this revelation.  
A/N 2: Italics indicate flashbacks.  
A/N 3: While this does follow one plotline, each installment is meant to stand alone at the same time for the requirement of the challenge. So this series will be stilted at best and not as smooth and pretty as a chapter story.  
**A/N 4: I know that this is becoming a plotless little series but honestly, I can't write something more involved in standalone ficlets. I just can't! My brain isn't wired in such ways! This series will be more about fun than reality. I had a whole plot outlined before realizing it broke the challenge rules *g* and I'm considering rewriting this as an actual fanfiction after the challenge is done with, you know, plot and character development all that fun, juicy stuff. Thanks for sticking with me through this experimental series! :)  
**Pairing: Buffy/Dean (BtVS/SPN Crossover)  
Word Count: 1,790  
Timeline: Post Season 7 for BtVS. Turning into mid Season 2 for SPN (after Nightshifter and before Folsom Prison Blues – in reference to whether the government knows Dean is alive to you wonderful inquiring people!).

Summary: TwistedShorts Challenge. Day 7: Dean and Sam scope out the Buffy situation.

* * *

"Dean, this is a waste of time."

"No, Sam, this is exactly what we need to be doing."

"No," Sam Winchester replied, drawing out the word, "You're freaking out."

"Of course, I'm freaking out," Dean Winchester snapped back, turning to glare at his brother before whipping his eyes back to the front of the Bellagio. He was getting frustrated – actually, it was like yesterday had started out as tiny snowball and suddenly it went hurtling down a hill, getting bigger and bigger and heavier and heavier. It felt like there was a tiny little spindle in his chest that was slowly tightening with each hour that passed since he had woken up in bed with a stranger and he was getting ready to scream.

There were dozens of people just milling about in front of the large hotel, looking around like a bunch of stupid tourists in the middle of stupid Las Vegas and they were all hindering his view of the front doors. Moving around in big tourist-y blobs, making spotting either the little blonde or brunette not easy in the least.

"I'm apparently married," Dean growled as he continued, his eyes glued to the front doors. He slapped the steering wheel for emphasis, "My supposed bride won't even look at me without a full bottle of tequila inside her body. Her friend or whatever the hell she is keeps giving me the brush off." With each tick of the item, Dean hit the steering wheel harder. "And as far as I can tell, this girl Buffy has the strength of the Hulk inside that tiny little body of hers which means she's probably possessed and I married a goddamn demon!"

"Okay-"

"And, to make matters even friggin' better," Dean continued, ignoring Sam, "When she gets a little upset, she punches people. She punched me! So I married a demon and a constant PMS-happy bitch of a woman. How is any of that okay?" Dean demanded, once again whipping around to glare at his brother where he sat and Sam moved to respond before thinking better of it. "Exactly. Now, shut up and help me look for her."

"Dean, I don't even know what she looks like." Dean growled out a response that Sam couldn't hear and he furrowed his brows at the simmering pile of unhappiness sitting in the driver's seat. "Okay, well, why don't you just go up to her room and talk to her?"

"Because she's probably a demon, Sam."

"Dude, there has been no evidence of another demonic possession in Las Vegas," Sam retorted, his patience snapping, throwing his hands up in exasperation. They had been sitting in the car for the last two hours, the sun beating a relentless drum on them and for no other reason than Dean was losing his mind. The possible other job in town was getting colder and colder as Dean dragged him into this little mess and Sam was about ready to abandon Dean to his insanity. "We tracked the other one down, exorcised it and we were going to leave before you went and got married to what is probably a very normal girl."

Dean glowered at his words. "You didn't see what she did to me."

Sam snickered. "Oh, I see it, Dean. I see a girl who is probably freaking out just as much as you are and you're trying to explain it away by saying she's a demon."

"She lifted me off the ground, Sam!"

"Okay, so she's a normal body-builder kind of girl."

"You're not helping."

"No," Sam replied, "You're not helping. Just go in there and talk to her, stop being such a baby about it. So you got married in Las Vegas, who cares. There are solutions. You probably didn't even use your real name, dude."

Dean didn't respond.

"And, if she is a demon, why don't you take your very full flask of holy water and go splash her in the face." Dean acknowledged him, barely, by glancing at the dashboard before looking back towards the hotel. Sam cocked his head. "Or you're scared." Dean's shoulder twitched. "You're scared that this is a normal girl and that you really are married and you just don't want to deal."

"Oh, no," Dean replied, "I want to deal. I want to deal with why the hell this happened in the first place. Did it ever occur to you that maybe Yellow Eyes is behind this, huh? Using this poor innocent girl to distract us from all your crap?"

"Oh, nice," Sam said, his tone getting chilly. "So this is about me now?"

"I'm not saying that."

Sam glared at the back of Dean's head before shaking his own, pinching his lips. A tense silence filled the car when Dean suddenly sat up straighter, leaning forward. "There she is."

Sam scanned the crowd. "Where?" He didn't see anything special or out of the ordinary, a point he was about to make when Dean pointed.

"Right there. Little blonde with the huge sunglasses and the bitchy-looking brunette." And then Sam saw them. He raised his eyebrows in appraisal.

"Huh."

Dean whirled to face him. "What?"

Sam shook his head. "Nothing…" He shot Dean an amused look. "Yeah, Dean, she looks real demonic."

Dean glared at him. He turned back around, watching the two women melt in and out of the crowd before disappearing. Dean opened his door. "Let's go."

"What?" Sam asked quickly, following his lead. "What? No. No, no, no."

"What's your problem?" Dean asked him over the top of the Impala, looking back over his shoulder to see if they had reappeared.

"We're not breaking into their room, Dean!"

"Why not?" Dean asked. "Just a little look-see."

"You do realize that this place has key card locks, dumbass," Sam said, following Dean as he quickly crossed the busy street. A car horn honked at them but Dean kept moving, ignoring it. He grabbed Dean's jacket. "Are you even listening to me?"

"What?" Dean snapped, shrugging his hand off. He forced himself to smile at Sam, making his tone light, "Why don't you use those big puppy dog eyes and seduce us a key card from a maid?"

"Not funny."

"So, what do you suggest then?" Dean asked, reverting back to being aggravated, pausing in the crowd, the people undulating around them as he looked up at his brother.

"Oh, I don't know, how about you knock on her door and actually talk?" Dean rolled his eyes. "Dean, this is stupid. You know, we could be on the road right now if you had just-"

"I tried that, Sam!" Dean gestured at his face. "The friggin' evidence is all over my face."

"Okay, fine, well…" Sam paused, his eyes ticking over to look behind Dean's shoulder and his eyes got wide. "Well, you know, I think there are… times when things just fall into your lap, you know?"

Dean frowned at him. "What the hell are you talking about?" Sam just gave him an awkward smile.

"Funny how you keep popping up out of the blue, ain't it?" Faith Lehane drawled from behind him and Dean closed his eyes. When he opened them, he glared at Sam who looked sheepish before turning around. He saw Faith staring at his brother. "Who's this, your other wife?"

"That's cute," Dean said simply and Faith smirked in return. And then Dean looked at Buffy. His wife… who was staring at the ground. And he almost wished he hadn't as he took in her shorts and white tank top, his eyes straying too long on her breasts before he reached her face once again. His body instantly wanted to step up and say, "How you doin?" and Dean was reminded why the hell it had probably been so easy agreeing to marry this woman.

He raised an eyebrow at her when she finally looked at him although she was still hiding behind her ridiculously huge sunglasses so he couldn't tell if she was actually looking at him. He opened his mouth and it felt very dry all of a sudden. He swallowed.

"Hi," Dean said stupidly.

She looked entirely uncomfortable as she waved her hand at him slightly. "Hey."

"We… should to talk."

"Understatement of the year," Faith butted in and Dean reacted immediately, sneering at her, "You just don't know when to stop flapping that pie-hole, do you?"

Sam watched, unsure what to do or how to act, as Faith was quick to the punch, "Only when dicks are being stupid."

"Okay, let's can the macho man crap already, alright?" Buffy Summers snapped, crossing her arms. "Let's just… get this over with."

"That sounds like a great idea," Sam interjected, patting Dean on the shoulder. "I'm gonna… go," he said, pointing back towards the Impala. He leaned closer towards Buffy, saying, "I'm Sam. Dean's brother." She raised an eyebrow as Sam lifted his hand to shake the car keys towards Dean's face. Dean immediately checked his jacket pocket and realized that Sam had snaked them when his brother started backing off. "You crazy kids do your thing."

"Sam…" Dean said, his voice full of warning, his teeth gritted and Sam held up his hands, smiling tightly before turning and walking away quickly. Dean narrowed his eyes, watching him go when he heard Faith slap her thighs.

"Yeah, I'm outta here too," she said. She gave Dean an icy smile. "I think I've had my fill of asshole for the day."

Dean just smirked at her and he didn't miss the long, hard look that Buffy shot her, almost looking like she had been betrayed. Faith didn't acknowledge it. Instead, she punched Buffy's shoulder before backing away herself, "Later, B. Cut this jerk loose, huh?" And then she herself melted back into the crowd.

Dean stared at the back of Buffy's head where she was turned to watch her brunette friend disappear. And almost like his eyes had a life of their own, they traced down her body, noting the snug fit of the loose denim on her ass, leaving just enough to room to slip his fingers up-

Dean bit his tongue as Buffy turned back to face him and he made a little pained face, grimacing before cursing himself. Mind, meet gutter. Apparently you're going to be the bestest of best friends because you can't stop thinking about how good this woman's ass cheeks would feel in your hands.

Buffy frowned at him but didn't comment. Instead, she pointed towards the hotel.

"Should we go inside and… do this thing?"

"Yeah," Dean breathed, giving her an uneasy smile. He wiped his palms on his jacket. "Let's go… do this… thing."

Worst. Las Vegas trip. Ever.

The End


	8. Who Are You?

Who Are You?

By Bre

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. I don't own much of anything really. They belong to the minds of The Whedon and The Kripke.  
Rating: R/FR18 (overall)  
A/N: Made for my series What Happens In Vegas Series. Day 8 of 31 in the twistedshorts community on LJ where you post a ficlet/short (between 300 and 3,000 words) every day of August. Everything in this series is designed to be a one-shot but the plot line will follow the two characters throughout this revelation.  
A/N 2: Italics indicate flashbacks.  
A/N 3: While this does follow one plotline, each installment is meant to stand alone at the same time for the requirement of the challenge. So this series will be stilted at best and not as smooth and pretty as a chapter story.  
Pairing: Buffy/Dean (BtVS/SPN Crossover)  
Word Count: 2,637  
Timeline: Post Season 7 for BtVS. Turning into mid Season 2 for SPN (after Nightshifter and before Folsom Prison Blues – in reference to whether the government knows Dean is alive to you wonderful inquiring people!).

Summary: TwistedShorts Challenge. Day 8: Buffy and Dean discover a problem more interesting than getting married…

* * *

Dean Winchester looked around the pleasant-looking hotel room, his eyes attaching themselves to everything that wasn't the other person in the room. He noted the colors, he thought about the couches where they each sat and their zigzag designs and he concentrated really, really hard on not thinking about what had happened in the bedroom that was about ten feet to his left. The glass French doors the room usually hid behind were wide open and the bed was made, neat and sound.

Dean remembered all too well how soft that bed was. How silky the sheets were. And how deliciously hot the woman sitting across from him had felt rolling around underneath him as he sucked on that little spot on her neck... and then other flashes of memory came back, like getting shoved off the bed, buck-ass naked save for a wedding ring on his left hand and a very unhappy little blonde who, unbeknownst to him at the time, was on a one-way track to InsaneVille. Oh, and the best part, they didn't know each other save for first names and that they obviously liked kissing and she liked hitting things. Namely, his innocent face.

"Sorry about... your face."

Dean's eyes ticked to look at her. She was sitting on the edge her couch, her bare feet crossed, her hands clasped together in her lap. And she looked… nervous, like she was about to vibrate herself right onto the floor.

"Yeah. I got that the first time," Dean replied with little apology and he watched her shoulders stiffen. She finally met his eyes for what had to be only the third time since they had run into each other downstairs. Where Sam and her little harlot friend had abandoned them to what was going to be the Worst Talk Ever.

Well, it was trying to be the Worst Talk Ever. Dean had tried to start the conversation...

"So, how about them Cowboys?"

"So, uh... Do you like guns?"

"Did you hear the one about the two idiots who got drunk and woke up married in Las Vegas?"

"Do you wanna just say screw it and make out right here, maybe sans clothes?"

The last one was wishful thinking and it was becoming more than wishful thinking the more Dean sat across from her, the more he remembered how good it felt to kiss her and the more he couldn't stop himself from checking out the bedroom. If anything, he was sure it had been a damn good night of sleep in that comfy beast.

Nothing was helped by how good she looked and Dean, every single time he looked at her, was reminded of why he was likely in this situation.

It was helping that she wasn't really responding to anything besides the topics that seemed to upset her. Lovely.

"I'm just trying to be nice," she said and Dean raised his eyebrows. He pointed at his jaw. The bruise had only gotten worse since she had punched him and it had only magnified since she slapped him the night before. Dean had barely been able to get a razor near it so he had stuck with more five o'clock shadow than he normally went for which made him look slightly scarier to the normies wandering around.

"You got a weird way of being nice," he said, his voice low. Her face melted into stone before she looked away, shaking her head. Dean shook his in response before standing and ripping his jacket off. She watched him throw it on the couch, plopping down next to it with a little too much gusto. "If you're gonna keep a guy waiting, why not get him a beverage or something, huh?"

"You know," Buffy Summers started, clasping her hands tighter in her lap, "You should probably remember I almost threw you through a wall last night."

Dean appraised her with mock value. "Oh, yeah, that was great. Tell me, how'd you do that again?"

Buffy just pinched her lips, blinking rapidly before looking away again. Dean cocked his head, leaning forward, his hands dangling between his knees. "Let's get one thing straight here, okay? You," he said, pointing to her, "Are a crazy person. And somehow your crazy got mixed in with my crazy and now we have too much crazy to handle."

Nothing.

"So about you show me our lovely little marriage certificate and I'll get the hell out of your life."

Buffy still didn't look at him and Dean furrowed his brow, taking a moment to actually look at her. And then he frowned. She was literally vibrating. Her entire body was shaking and she looked like she was barely keeping it under control, her arms and legs taut, her entire body stiff as a board, as she stared at the floor. Dean's mind fleetingly wondered if he had accidentally married a crack addict. Or someone who really liked PCP. That would explain the freakish strength...

"What the hell is the matter with you?" he asked.

Buffy glanced at him. "Nothing," she said, moving to cross her arms but immediately snapped them back to place in her lap when they started visibly shaking. Dean stared at her hands where she dug her nails into the fine skin. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

"Well, aren't you just an observant kind of guy," Buffy said sarcastically. Dean let out an exasperated gasp, rolling his eyes, biting his tongue.

"Do you want some... I don't know, water or something?" he asked, his voice forcibly calm and lame instead of the 'I'll show you where you can shove that shitty sarcasm, bitch' he wanted to bite off.

"No," Buffy said abruptly. She shook her head. "Let's just... do this thing."

"Hey, I'm trying," Dean replied, holding his hands out. "You gotta give me something here."

"I don't have a marriage certificate. At least, I don't think I do."

"Oh, that's just friggin' great."

"Can't we…" Buffy paused, shaking her head as she tried to put her words together and Dean once again watched her, his face a mirror of the concern and fear that she was going to Hulk out again on him that he felt inside. She looked like she was just... losing her mind. She hadn't been shaking nearly this bad just a moment ago or downstairs. Hell, in the awkward as all get out elevator on the way up here. She had been fine walking in, sitting down and suddenly... "I don't know, call someone? Don't they keep records of who gets married here?"

"I don't know," Dean replied absently, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth as he stared at her. He wasn't sure what he was seeing exactly. She could be faking... or it could be withdrawals from something. Something bad and creepy and horrible and everything Dean didn't want to deal with. "Come on, are you sure you don't need something? You look like you're jonesing for a hit."

Buffy let out an amazed laugh, actually smiling for a moment and Dean noticed he didn't not see it. "I'm not a drug addict," she said tiredly and Dean frowned at her again, not replying. Instead, he stood up, looking down at her for a second before turning towards the restroom. She watched him with her own frown as he came back a moment later with a wet washcloth in his hand and a water bottle.

"Here, take this," he said, handing her the washcloth and tossing the bottle on the couch. "You look freaking miserable and it's hard to stay mad about the fact that I'm married to you while you look like you're about to jump out of your own freaking skin."

Buffy stared at the washcloth before looking up at him. She reached up and took it, her fingers grazing his for a second and Dean felt like an electric shot came from that very spot. He flinched but didn't pull away. Instead, he paused, staring at her for a moment in confusion and growing wonder. She watched him from underneath her eyelashes, her mouth gaped, her breath heavy and Dean glanced at her lips, just long enough for his body to come roaring to life, before Dean stepped away, letting the washcloth fall into her lap. She jerked at the cool sensation on her bare legs and she snatched it up, gripping it tight in her fist.

Neither said anything for a moment as Buffy concentrated on the washcloth and Dean just stood there. Awkwardly. Like a moron until he took a few jerky steps back to his couch. What in the icy blue hell was that all about? He rubbed the tips of his fingers where he had touched her and he wondered if she had spent a few hours that morning rolling around on the plush carpet of her hotel suite like a dog. Or if she had been struck by lightning.

Buffy stared at the white damp washcloth, noting every single little fiber that her eyes could find as she tried to do everything but look at Dean. Dean. God, it had barely been a day since she last saw him and he was the only thing she could think about. It was the most overwhelmingly awful feeling and it was only made worse by the fact that she couldn't explain anything at all. The night before, when she had kissed him, it was like he had had her in a tractor beam, pulling her in, almost against her will but she had so gladly gone along with it because she had wanted to kiss him. His lips? Very kissable.

Plump and kissable and he had freckles and green eyes and...

Buffy licked her lips, glancing at him once again and immediately averting her eyes when she saw he was staring at her. But then, just like that, she had been back to her normal self right when things were getting hot and heavy. Rather, her enraged normal self. It was like one part of her couldn't get enough of this man, wanted him, needed him touching her, all over the place for entirely unexplainable reasons and then the other part just lashed out in retaliation. Buffy liked to think that her reaction, like a normal person's reaction, would have been to step away and say, "Hey, you freak me out with how good you feel so just stop coming around me? Okay? Bye."

Instead, she had flown into a white rage when Dean argued with her and she had almost thrown him through the hotel wall. Not good. Not explainable. Also not of the good. Very distracting which was also very bad as she also had yet to hear any of the varied voicemails Giles had left on her cell phone.

They had come to Las Vegas to look for a new Slayer. Bring her back to Cleveland where the unofficial Slayer Headquarters was, get her training on, as she appeared to have no family and was starting to get into trouble with the law. She had invited Faith which, if Buffy thought about it, was probably why she was in this situation because her lovely sister Slayer had talked her into getting so wasted that she apparently met a random man, had crazy sex all night and woke up married.

Stupid Faith.

Despite everything, the fact that she was apparently married to this man had lost its sense of insistence the more hours that passed since last night and only because it became less important. It's like Dean imprinted himself on her. She dreamt about him. She thought about him constantly. She felt like her skin was literally trying to get up and jump across the little space between them just now so it could touch him, be touched.

It was, for lack of any words, driving her absolutely bonkers.

The only reason she had left the suite earlier was because Faith had threatened to throw her ass out the window and into a pool if she didn't get up and shower. And so she had and the fresh air had felt nice, the sun had felt good, cleansing and she had felt better getting out of her room... until they ran into Dean and another oddly tall fella who claimed to be her husband's brother.

Husband. Hot, sexy, strangely endearing husband…

But the sensation from the night before hadn't been there outside. It hadn't been there when Faith just took off, leaving her alone with the random guy and it hadn't been there when she rode up in the elevator, slipped the key card into her door lock and entered first. It hadn't been there until they sat down and they both stopped, sitting through his awful excuses for starting conversations.

Until her body apparently realized who it was that was sitting there and then the shaking had started.

Buffy was starting to wonder if maybe her body had gone through so much odd shock in the last 24 hours that it practically rattling her to death in one spot was perfectly normal. She didn't feel a sense of urgency, she didn't really feel anything but the sudden, mad desire to touch him. And it felt familiar and warm, like something she had felt before and something she had been able to sate before.

Oh, god, this was bad.

And then the doof had to get up and go get her a washcloth, like a gentleman or something and then he had touched her. Rather, she had grazed him and it had been enough, that tiny little touch, to quiet every single part of her body. She had been still in that moment, perfectly still, and when she looked up at him...

Buffy tore her eyes away from the washcloth and stood without thinking. She felt her body pitching slightly, the shaking getting oddly worse while at the same time it moved through her body as gravity worked its way through her system and she moved towards Dean.

Dean just watched her, his eyes wide. He glanced around the room for a moment, wondering if he should get up and run, saying screw it, who the hell would need to know he was married to any crazy broad? He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out as she sat down next to him.

Dean couldn't read the look she was giving him but he could read the utter rush of adrenaline and terror in his chest as his blood seemed to focus on his bruised chin, making him far too aware of it, trying to make him remember why he should be afraid of her.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice hushed and Buffy shook her head.

"I don't know," she said, almost helplessly before she reached over and cupped his cheek. Dean inhaled quickly, her skin hot against his and feeling far too delicious. He watched in amazement as Buffy's shaking suddenly stopped. Her body relaxed, sinking farther into the couch, leaning closer to him and he clenched his hands into fists as her chest pressed into his arm, so hot it felt like he was on fire.

Buffy furrowed her brow, staring at her hand where it touched him before meeting his eyes. "I feel better when I touch you."

Dean stared at her. "What?"

Buffy shook her head, her eyes wide with her own confusion and she pulled her hand away. Dean couldn't help the tiny gasp when she stopped touching him, moving to watch her hand where it hovered next to his face. It was no longer fear that ran through his body... it was something else.

Buffy licked her lips and Dean caught the action before meeting her eyes.

"Who are you?"

The End


	9. Questions, Questions and More Questions

Questions, Questions and More Questions

By Bre

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. I don't own much of anything really. They belong to the minds of The Whedon and The Kripke.  
Rating: R/FR18 (overall)  
A/N: Made for my series What Happens In Vegas Series. Day 9 of 31 in the twistedshorts community on LJ where you post a ficlet/short (between 300 and 3,000 words) every day of August. Everything in this series is designed to be a one-shot but the plot line will follow the two characters throughout this revelation.  
A/N 2: Italics indicate flashbacks.  
A/N 3: While this does follow one plotline, each installment is meant to stand alone at the same time for the requirement of the challenge. So this series will be stilted at best and not as smooth and pretty as a chapter story.  
Pairing: Buffy/Dean (BtVS/SPN Crossover)  
Word Count: 2, 295  
Timeline: Post Season 7 for BtVS. Turning into mid Season 2 for SPN (after Nightshifter and before Folsom Prison Blues – in reference to whether the government knows Dean is alive to you wonderful inquiring people!).

Summary: TwistedShorts Challenge. Day 9: Buffy and Faith receive ill news from Giles while Buffy struggles with her new problem.

* * *

She watched him leaving the hotel, walking with purpose towards the exit and bursting through the doors. He disappeared into a wave of tourists and she waited until he his head disappeared from her line of sight before pulling out her phone. She felt that familiar sense of dread whenever she called in but everything was going very far south. It was becoming a problem.

"He's gone?" he asked by way of greeting.

"Not… gone, sir, not in the sense that he's dead. He left the hotel."

"Without her?" A cold chill danced down her spine and she braced herself as she heard him take a deep breath on the other side when she hesitated.

"Yes."

"This is… disappointing."

* * *

"So, what does that even mean?" Faith Lehane asked into the phone, her eyes tracking the blonde from where she sat, staring into the bedroom.

Buffy Summers was pacing like a cat in heat, wringing her hands as she cut a hole in the carpet before turning around and going back. She would disappear for a moment on one side of the room before pacing back in front of her and then disappearing behind the other side. She had barely acknowledged Faith since she had come up and Faith's nerves were already fried to hell. Watching Buffy the Energizer Bunny was only setting her even more on edge.

She heard Giles saying something on the other side and she broke her stare. "Sorry, Giles, what?"

_Dean Winchester reached up to catch her hand where it hovered next to his cheek, the warmth of her palm radiating out. His eyes were glued to her as she looked at their joined hands. His looked large and rough compared to her small, pale one and she felt the thick callouses on his palm rubbing against the delicate skin on the back of hers but she didn't pull away. It didn't feel… bad._

_In fact, it felt good. Great. Amazing. Spectacular. Buffy felt more calm and level than since they had landed in Las Vegas and she found she didn't really give a crap about the why… She just didn't want him to stop touching her._

"_Who are you?" she asked again and Dean just stared at her, his face unreadable. Buffy watched him, waiting for a response but nothing happened. She leaned forward, wrapping her fingers around his, their skin getting hotter, when he suddenly dropped hers and bolted from the couch_

_Buffy instantly felt the disconnection and the coldness it came along with. "What?" she asked._

_Dean took a few steps away, moving around like he was unsure what he was supposed to do. "What?" he mimicked. He waved a hand at her. "How about you explain what the hell that was?"_

Buffy looked about ready to climb the friggin' walls and Faith just watched her move, back and forth, back and forth. When she had finally made her way back to the hotel, once again with nada, zip, zilch on the new Slayer, she had found Buffy sitting on the balcony in her room, staring at the wall instead of looking out at the view. Faith was beginning to wonder if maybe Buffy had honestly lost it this time… To say it was un-Buffy like to drink Faith under the table, run off with the first guy she meets and then wake up after having some wild sex all night married to said guy?

That was more Faith's thing and even Faith knew it was the most ridiculous thing ever. And the most cliché goddamn thing, it was freaking Las Vegas, for the love of Christ.

She had assumed that by now Buffy would have snapped out it, come back to reality. Used those Buffy smarts to get rid of the guy and actually help Faith out with the ever increasing new Slayer problem so they could both go to their respective ways once more.

Instead, it looked like Buffy was twirling quicker and quicker inside her head, losing her grip on anything real. Or, she was just finally cracking, letting an all too human moment in a lifetime of supernatural moments be the final straw that broke the camel's back.

Faith frowned when she noticed Buffy started rubbing her arms, almost frantically. She still didn't look at Faith.

"Las Vegas isn't the only place this is happening, Faith," Giles continued on the other end of the phone and Faith shook herself out of her thoughts, looking away from the caged Slayer. She cocked her head as Giles continued, "We have reports of two other Slayers having gone missing in their hometowns across the country. Your Virginia Riddy was the first, it would appear."

"So, someone's snatching up some Slayer candy, huh?"

"Yes, which makes it all the more important to figure out what is going on."

"Wow, Giles, that's great," Faith replied sarcastically, rubbing her eyes roughly until she started seeing stars, "Thanks for that. I'm trying my goddamn best here, okay?"

She heard Giles' sigh on the other end of the phone and for a split second, she felt a little bad for snapping at him before she remembered that it had been Buffy who had asked Faith to join her in Las Vegas to help her in her stupid assigned task. Not the other way around and certainly not on her damn own. Normally, this would be a great thing. Flying solo and all that crap. But instead of dealing with Slayer Buffy, she was dealing with Insane Buffy.

It was enough for Faith to take a stake straight into her eye.

"Did Buffy ever get her phone fixed?"

And on top of all the fun of dealing with catatonic Buffy and her loser husband, she had lied to Giles about why Buffy wasn't picking up her phone. It had flowed out of her like a river of lies the instant he asked after his fourth insistent voicemail and Faith had just… lied.

Of course, this was before Faith really started noticing how weird Buffy had actually been acting and now she regretted it completely. Instead of covering for Buffy like a nice sister Slayer, she was outright lying to the blonde's mentor when the situation was becoming something Faith could actually use a little help with. Who would have thought that turning over a new leaf in life would make you feel so honest?

"Uh, you know, I don't know," Faith said, nodding in time with her white lie, feeling more and more foolish as the words poured out, "Pool water is just so… vicious... On appliances…"

"Hmm…" was his response and Faith closed her eyes, pressing her palm to her forehead. Hot damn, she didn't remember going Dark Side being this fucking hard to maintain. "Well, yes, just keep doing what you both can to find Virginia. The pattern is disturbing."

"Yep," was all Faith said.

"Is Buffy with you?" Giles asked and Faith's eyes flew to where she was still pacing in the other room. Now, she had started mumbling, more arguing, with herself and it looked like nobody was winning.

Faith made a face. "In a sense."

"What does that mean?"

Faith rolled her eyes before covering the mouthpiece. "B." Buffy didn't pause. "Buffy, look alive, babe, you've got ex-Watcher sniffing around." Buffy kept moving, not looking over and Faith stood in exasperation. "Jesus, Buffy, pull your crazy head out of your ass."

Buffy suddenly stopped and turned and Faith watched in shock as she came over and grabbed the phone from her hand, snapping it shut, effectively disconnecting the call. She threw it on the couch. Faith gaped at her. "What the hell?"

Buffy blinked quickly, shrugging. "I didn't want to talk."

"Yeah," Faith said slowly, "I got that."

Buffy frowned at her before shaking her head and turning away. But Faith wasn't having any of that and she grabbed her arm, whipping her back around. Faith ignored the sudden instinct to protect herself when she felt Buffy's body stiffen violently, her hands curling into fists as she glared at the brunette. Faith frowned at her and she absently wondered if frowning so much in such a short amount of time meant more wrinkles. It only reminded her why she didn't hang around Slayer Headquarters.

"Okay, B, you've got some serious explaining to do."

"_What?" Dean mimicked. "How about you explain what the hell that was?"_

_He sat down on the opposite couch, his eyes never leaving Buffy. She hadn't moved from where she had slouched against him and now she sat, looking awkward, her back bent awkwardly as she stared back at him._

_Buffy opened her mouth but nothing came out and Dean found he also had nothing to say. Covering his mouth, Dean just blinked at her, tapping a finger against his lips, waiting for her to elaborate but she looked just as stunned as he did. What the hell was going on, he wondered, as he noticed the fine tremble starting in her limbs again._

"_Okay," he breathed, holding his hands out, "How about we just figure out thing at a time, huh? How about the… easy one first." He scoffed at his own words. "So… No marriage certificate?"_

_Buffy shrugged._

"_What the hell kind of place did we go to if they don't give out freaking marriage certificates?"_

_Buffy chuckled, shaking her head. "I have no idea," she said. "I've never been married before." She lifted an eyebrow. "Fake engaged but I don't think that counts."_

_It was the first time she had said something that didn't have any menace or oddly-placed lust or outright confusion behind it and Dean smirked in return. It actually made Dean feel slightly better about the situation until he saw her arm shaking and the moment was gone._

"_And what about… that?" he asked, pointing at her shaking limb and Buffy looked down. She held up her hand, watching it shake visibly. She stared at it._

"_I don't know."_

"_A lot of that going around," Dean replied. "When did it start?"_

_With that simple question, Buffy's body suddenly morphed into an entirely different animal as her face hardened, her mouth turning into an ugly slant as she leaned forward to stare at him. Dean leaned away from her as she said, "When I met you." She narrowed her eyes. "Did you do this to me?"_

"_Whoa, whoa, now, I think that's a logic jump that doesn't… have logic," he replied, holding his hands up as he stood. "How about I leave before we see another rendition of 'Let's Hurt Dean,' huh? We can pick this up… some other time." He reached into his jeans, pulling out a piece of paper, dropping it on the couch. "Cell phone." He moved to grab his jacket but paused as she glared up at him. "Can I have my jacket or are you gonna hit me?" She didn't respond and he couldn't hold back his snarky comment, "Jesus. Do I piss you off that much?"_

_The shaking took on a new intensity as she stood and Dean watched her visibly fighting with herself. Dean kept his hands up, just in case. Instead, she leaned over and picked up his jacket. But she didn't give it to him._

"_Uh…" He looked at his jacket before back at her._

_Buffy stared up at him, looking for all the world like she had no idea what the hell was going on. Dean felt his heart clench a little at the sight and he wanted to step up and let her touch him all over again. He remembered the content look on her face when their skin had made contact… He had no idea what was going on and he hadn't minded that little hand on him…_

_Under different circumstances, hell yes, but right now, it honestly just freaked him the hell out._

Buffy stared at Faith and it felt like she was looking right through her. Faith waved her hand in front of her face but Buffy ignored it as she turned back around towards the bedroom. She pulled out a piece of paper from her back pocket and stared at it. Faith followed her.

"Buffy, come on, this is getting ridiculous." Buffy moved to the nightstand and picked up her cell phone, not hearing her. "Good," Faith said encouragingly. "Are you calling Giles back after just dropping him like that?"

"No. I'm calling Dean."

"What?" Faith asked incredulously and she was by Buffy's side before she could blink, snatching the phone from her hands. "What the hell are you doing that for? Did you not hear me talking to Giles? We're having Slayer problems, girlfriend, and not little ones."

"Give me back my phone, Faith," Buffy said, her voice even and Faith responded by snatching the paper with Dean's number as well. She backed up.

"Like hell, B. Something more than this guy has got your panties all twisted. And I'm willing to bet it has to do with Romeo." Buffy took a step forward and Faith mirrored it. "Oh, no. Let's do a little talkie talkie before you call Lover Boy again, huh?"

* * *

"What do you suggest I do?"

"I suggest," he continued, his voice full of acid and her mind flew to what she had seen him do to her past coworkers, "That you move it to the next… level and bring him into the mix."

"Yes, sir."

"And Cynthia? The next time you call me, it should be with better news." He cut off her response by hanging up and she listened to the dial tone for a long moment, gripping the phone too tight as it dug into her skin. She blinked away fearful tears before following Dean Winchester.

The End


	10. It's All Freakishly Scary

It's All Freakishly Scary

By Bre

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. I don't own much of anything really. They belong to the minds of The Whedon and The Kripke.  
Rating: R/FR18 (overall)  
A/N: Made for my series What Happens In Vegas Series. Day 10 of 31 in the twistedshorts community on LJ where you post a ficlet/short (between 300 and 3,000 words) every day of August. Everything in this series is designed to be a one-shot but the plot line will follow the two characters throughout this revelation.  
A/N 2: Italics indicate flashbacks.  
A/N 3: While this does follow one plotline, each installment is meant to stand alone at the same time for the requirement of the challenge. So this series will be stilted at best and not as smooth and pretty as a chapter story as I'm also kinda making it up as I go along. :)  
Pairing: Buffy/Dean (BtVS/SPN Crossover)  
Word Count: 2,678  
Timeline: Post Season 7 for BtVS. Turning into mid Season 2 for SPN (after Nightshifter and before Folsom Prison Blues – in reference to whether the government knows Dean is alive to you wonderful inquiring people!).

Summary: TwistedShorts Challenge. Day 10: Dean wants a distraction in the form of a job and it turns into more than he needed.

* * *

"God. Damn. Tie."

Yanking on it again, he felt it tighten around his neck and he almost ripped it right off. Instead, he settled for clenching his fist around it in his aggravation, leaving it wrinkled and pathetic looking. Dean Winchester rolled his eyes at himself in the bathroom mirror before taking a deep breath and loosening the tie once again. How many damn times had he tied a damn tie? It's like his fingers were made of butter all of a sudden.

"Fucking tie," he muttered to himself, his eyes focusing on his actions as he finally looped it in right and he tugged it down. The knot was still too small but he didn't give two rat's asses as he smoothed down the wrinkled edges as best he could. It was tied. "Ha, got you, you little bitch."

"Getting some good quality time with your tie there, Dean?"

Dean looked at Sam's reflection in the mirror, making a face at him before running his hand down the tie one more time. He was amazed he had been able to put on his button up shirt much less the tie. He was… distracted.

"Let's just get out of here," Dean said, brushing past Sam as he left the bathroom and Sam Winchester turned to watch him with an amused smile. "And then we're going to get a beer. A damn good freaking beer."

"It was bad enough that you're conversing with your tie?" he asked jokingly.

Dean gave him an incredulous look. By 'bad enough,' his brother was referring to the train wreck his meeting with his wife had turned into. His wife. His insane, possibly crack-addicted wife who liked to hold jackets hostage and turn around when you thought a conversation was going good and bite your balls off. The entire situation gave him a headache – he had no idea what to do, how to handle this. His gut was telling him that something was off but what he was seeing was a something that probably wasn't too uncommon in Las Vegas and it was turning his brain into scrambled eggs.

This was something that was way, way out of his league when it came to women and for the umpteenth time just that day, Dean cursed himself.

And then he mentally slapped his past self as he once more went through the motions of remembering what had happened over the last few days. Las Vegas was truly living up to its reputation where the idiots get drunk and the idiots marry the first thing with sexy legs that walk by him. At least, he was sure that's how it went because that night was still a huge black hole in his memory.

And then the creature with the sexy legs turned out to be everything that was sexy along with insane.

And the icing on top of the crap cake? Sam appeared to think he was merely exaggerating.

"No, Sam, it was worse, okay?" Dean replied, grabbing his keys. He ripped open the motel door, gesturing towards Sam to get moving. Sam smirked at him as he walked out and Dean glared at the back of his head. "Worse."

"And what did she say about the shaking?"

"Ha," Dean said, locking the door. "Try nothing. It was like I was talking to this nice, sweet little woman who happens to have the most amazing looking…" Dean glanced at Sam as they made their way to the Impala, his face getting a little sheepish, "Chest… and then suddenly she freaks out on me. Again! It was like she wasn't even concerned about the fact that we got married."

"And the shaking stopped when she touched you?" Sam asked – again.

"Yes, I know." Dean opened the driver's side door of his baby, looking at Sam over the top. "It was weird. And no, I really don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Well," Sam started, slipping in on his side. Dean followed suit, slamming his door shut and jamming his keys into the ignition. The Impala roared to life. "It sounds like it could be something supernatural."

Dean grunted as he reversed before throwing the car into gear and whipping too quickly out of the parking lot, not bothering with a reply. One minute his brother had managed to convince him that his situation was "normal," and now he was back to Dean's original idea of "supernatural." Although, if Dean were being honest with himself, he felt better thinking it had something to do with Sam than Buffy and that only made a torrent of guilt slam into his chest thinking about Sam and the supernatural. It was all irrational and stupid and the entire situation left him feeling… uneasy, more so than he remembered ever feeling in his life.

He didn't like it.

It didn't help that he thought he might genuinely like this girl – rather perhaps, lust for this girl – and that it might be his fault that all of this was happening to her… that because she had met him, things were now spiraling wildly out of control in her world in a very unnatural way.

The more he tried to think about Buffy and how she was acting, the more he really wished he had just accidentally married a hooker with herpes. At least that, that was something he could handle. Being married and being married to something supernatural at the same time?

No.

Sam gave him a sideways glance. "Dean, you're going the wrong way."

"Damn it," Dean growled. He was distracted. Way too distracted, too distracted to even be thinking about hopping into a job. But Sam was right about one thing: there was something fishy going on in Las Vegas and it wasn't just the fact that he had accidentally married a woman who got her calm fix whenever they touched.

What the hell ever that freaking meant.

With a sudden sensation of a balloon full of battery acid felt like it was growing in his chest, Dean swung a wide U-turn, flipping off the white Volvo that honked at him as he cut them off before speeding off once again towards the police station. Sam pinched his lips when Dean suddenly pulled back and slammed his palm against the steering wheel. "Damn it!"

"Okay," Sam said slowly, turning to look at his brother. "You need to calm down."

"I can't calm down, Sam! I can barely think about anything without thinking about her and when I think about her, I think about how screwed up everything is and then I think about this job and how I really don't give two shits about it because I really feel like my problem is more important and then I feel guilty and angry and then I feel like I need a goddamn distraction and so here we are." Dean raised his eyebrows. "Would you be able to calm down?" Sam just stared at him and Dean waved him off. "Just tell me about the job again."

"Okay, well." Dean didn't miss the concerned look he received but he ignored it as Sam wound himself up, "It started with a young girl, Virginia Riddy, about seventeen. She grew up in Las Vegas. She was getting into a little bit of trouble but nothing serious enough to make the papers but that changed," Sam continued, reaching into his inner jacket pocket and pulling out a sheaf of paper, "When she got arrested for assaulting a man on the Strip." Dean glanced at the picture of the hobo that had claimed assault and he was met with a pulpy face where there should have been bone structure. He grimaced. "And then she slipped her cuffs and beat the crap out of the police officers before disappearing."

Dean frowned, thinking about the parallels between this mystery girl and his wife. He flinched as he remembered what it felt like to be thrown into a wall by a woman barely half his size. Sam ruffled through his papers as Dean asked, "So, what's the big deal then?"

"Besides the officers calling her 'freakishly strong' and 'freakishly scary?'" Sam quoted. "Honestly, it was just a hunch until I did a little research, especially after seeing your face… You know," he said with a smirk as he looked at Dean, "I've had all this time on my hands since you went and got yourself a little missus…"

"Hilarious," Dean said dryly, his voice devoid of humor, ignoring the remark about his face and the bruise on his jaw that was only getting uglier as it tried to heal.

"So, I found a few interesting things out and about and apparently, two more young girls have gone missing. One in Tennessee and one in Wyoming," Sam said, ticking off the states on his fingers. "Both began exhibiting signs of weird strength and weird occurrences started happening before they both disappeared."

"So, what, you're thinking a widespread supernatural phenomenon?"

"I…" Sam shrugged, "I don't know. I have no idea what the hell is going on."

"And so we're going to the police station to chat up some nicely bruised officers for some information on our very own missing girl."

"Yep."

"Alright then." There was a moment of peace and quiet and Dean reached forward, turning up the radio, the tape in the deck hitting the first cord of Dean's favorite Metallica song when Sam reached forward to turn it off. Dean turned to shoot him a nasty glare but Sam was staring at him. "What?"

"Are we gonna talk about how weird it is that you got beat up by a woman who looks like she couldn't arm wrestle a six year old while three others happen to go missing? All with the same symptoms and all around the same time?"

"Um…" Dean shook his head. "No."

"Dean."

"Sam," replied mockingly as he swung the Impala into the front parking lot of the police station. He didn't bother letting Sam get another word in edgewise before he jumped out and headed for the front door. "Move your ass, Sammy."

"Dean," Sam said again, getting out and closing his door heavily. "Come on."

"No, Sam, stop, stop," Dean snapped, whipping around to face him. "Just stop, okay? I don't want to talk about it. I'm freaking out right now and I'm just… no, the answer is no."

"It could-"

"No, Sam," Dean said forcefully, his voice angry.

"Dean, are you more freaked out that she might actually be something weird or are you freaking out because you don't want her to be?"

Fucking insightful brother. Dean just scowled at him before turning and walking into the police station.

* * *

Glancing back over her shoulder, she didn't see anything, anyone. She licked her lips anxiously as she turned back to the motel room door, closing her eyes and bowing her head. She murmured a few words, the words sounding guttural and fixed as the lock on the door clicked open with a loud snap. She smiled at herself before looking around once more and then she slipped into the Winchesters' room.

* * *

"What is it about this girl?" the older woman behind the counter asked them after alerting their presence, her voice tinged with the remnants of a heavy Southern accent, and Sam and Dean simultaneously turned to look at each other before Sam smoothed it over with a smile.

"What do you mean?"

"You're not the first ones to come sniffing around, young man," she replied, directing her answer to Sam and Dean frowned at her words. Not the first ones? It really, truly never failed – every single job that they went on always had a hitch. Never freaking failed. Something always turned around, something always became evident that they didn't want to become evident and it was always accompanied with a sick feeling in the bottom of his stomach. This one meant that the world knew something that they did not and Dean hated that feeling.

"Oh," Sam replied. But he didn't get a chance to continue when the detective they had asked for – Detective Jomms – arrived. He held out his hands and they both shook it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you fellas," Jomms said, giving them a half smile. "It's nice to see some new faces coming from them FBI."

Dean let out an uncomfortable laugh as he patted Jomms' shoulder. New faces meant there were regulars which meant this was going to be a short trip. "Yes, sir, we like getting new faces in here too." He shot Sam a look before steering Jomms away. "We were just hoping we could talk to the two officers who, uh, encountered…"

Sam watched them walk away before turning back to the woman again. "You said someone else has been asking about her?"

The older woman smirked, nodding. "Yes," she said, drawing out the word. "Mr. Jomms in there thinks it's nothing but I know when something is something, you know?" Sam nodded her along, keeping his face neutral. "A woman came asking around about her, a pretty little thing until she opened her mouth. Lack-of-proper-manners kind of woman, with this vulgar Boston accent and she got real strange when I asked for her information."

Sam frowned at her description. "Strange?"

"Yeah, like… jumpy. And then she left pretty quick after that."

Sam stared at her for a split second too long, his mind immediately jumping to when he had finally gotten an eyeful of Dean's wife… and her friend with the accent. "She didn't leave a name?"

"No, no," the woman replied, shaking her head, fiddling with her pen. "But I would remember her anywhere and that is saying something when you work in the heart of Las Vegas, young man."

Sam smiled politely. "I believe that," he said before gesturing to himself. "Could you maybe describe her?"

"Oh yes," she replied. "She had long brown hair, big eyes, big ol' lips. And uh… she wasn't afraid to let her, uh…" The woman made a face as she gestured to her chest, insinuating the woman had practically let her boobs flow right out of her shirt. "If you know what I mean."

"Yeah," Sam mused, nodding. "I think I do."

* * *

Sam leaned against the hood of the Impala, his hands shoved in his pockets as he stared at the sidewalk. He looked up as the front doors swung open but it was only a police officer who glanced at him as she came down the stairs before disappearing into her own car.

He was worried. About Dean and about the sticky situation his brother now found himself. Worried about what it all meant and worried that they had stepped into a big pile of crap. Again.

Suddenly the doors swung open and Dean burst through, hopping down the stairs, giving Sam an impatient look.

"Well, that was a friggin' waste of time," he grumbled. He stopped in front of Sam, frowning. "They're mostly just embarrassed that they got beat up by a 17-year-old girl instead of knowing anything about her. Apparently the guy who got "assaulted," he said, using air quotes, "Had made some sort of "remark" at her and it set her off. They don't know where she is and I don't think they really care where she is."

Sam nodded, his lips pursed and Dean put out his hands before slapping Sam in the bicep. "Come on, man, dead end. Let's go get those beers, huh?"

"Not a dead end, Dean," Sam replied. "I got something."

"Ooh," Dean replied, wiggling his eyebrows. "You got Southern Mama's number in there, huh?"

Sam frowned, furrowing his brow before shaking his head. "What? No. I got some information. About Virginia Riddy and about… your wife…" Sam raised an eyebrow. "I think."

The tepid joy that had been on Dean's face melted away, almost like watching a water balloon as its water got siphoned. He blinked. "What?"

Sam looked uncomfortable as he said, "We need to go talk to her."

The End


	11. Fire

Fire

By Bre

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. I don't own much of anything really. They belong to the minds of The Whedon and The Kripke.  
Rating: R/FR18 (overall)  
A/N: Made for my series What Happens In Vegas Series. Day 11 of 31 in the twistedshorts community on LJ where you post a ficlet/short (between 300 and 3,000 words) every day of August. Everything in this series is designed to be a one-shot but the plot line will follow the two characters throughout this revelation.  
A/N 2: Italics indicate flashbacks.  
A/N 3: While this does follow one plotline, each installment is meant to stand alone at the same time for the requirement of the challenge. So this series will be stilted at best and not as smooth and pretty as a chapter story.  
A/N 4: I apologize if this update is a bit "in limbo." It's a limbo update, deal.  
Pairing: Buffy/Dean (BtVS/SPN Crossover)  
Word Count: 1,434  
Timeline: Post Season 7 for BtVS. Turning into mid Season 2 for SPN (after Nightshifter and before Folsom Prison Blues – in reference to whether the government knows Dean is alive to you wonderful inquiring people!).

Summary: TwistedShorts Challenge. Day 11: Dean has a moment of "clarification."

* * *

The minute they got back to their room, he felt it.

It being something… off. And weird. And itchy. And hot… really, really hot. Dean Winchester shrugged underneath his suddenly too heavy suit jacket, reaching up to massage the back of his neck where his skin felt like it was on fire. Christ, it was hot as hell in this room. He barely heard Sam shutting the door and saying something to him, the words sounding like white noise as Dean blinked, staring at the bed.

"Is it hot in here?" he asked, interrupting his brother.

"What?"

"Man, it feels like it's a hundred degrees or something."

Sam Winchester leaned back from where he was untying his shoes, his suit jacket thrown over the chair carelessly, and stared at him. He frowned as Dean loosened his tie a little before tugging on it harder. After a second of struggling with it, he finally got it loose enough to just slip over his head and he threw the piece of cheap silk into the bathroom with an aggravated sound. He wiped his forehead, turning around before turning back the other way.

"What's up with you?" Sam asked.

"What?" Dean asked, whipping around to give his brother a 'who me?' look. "Nothing."

Sam lifted his eyebrows, kicking his shoes off. "Right."

"It's just, like… hot in here or something." Dean Winchester ripped his jacket off and threw it on the bed. He glanced at Sam. "You don't feel that?"

Sam looked around the room before focusing on Dean once more. Yes, they were in Las Vegas and it was warmer here than say, Canada, but it was still fall time and it was still pretty chilly at night. He glanced outside as he said, "Dean, it's like sixty degrees outside."

"Huh," was all Dean said in reply before shrugging off his jacket and tossing it on the bed. Sam watched him sit down, as Dean paused before leaning back on the bed, like he was testing it. He looked confused and he looked… flushed. Dean turned to look over his shoulder at the bed, looking contemplative and even more flushed before he turned back around and heeled off his shoes.

"Dean?"

"What?"

"You okay?"

"Uh, yeah," he said. He leaned forward, touching his neck again, rubbing the back of it before shooting to his feet. "I'm gonna take a shower."

"What? No, that's stupid; you just took a shower a few hours ago." Dean just stared at him and Sam sighed in aggravation, already seeing where this was going as Dean went into the bathroom. "We're going to the Bellagio, Dean."

"Yeah, yeah, just give me five minutes," Dean replied absently before closing the bathroom door behind him. Sam stared at the door where he had just disappeared, confusion inked on his face.

Taking in a few deep breaths, Dean turned to look at himself in the mirror. He felt like something was alive under his skin, creeping and crawling and literally on fire. He blinked at himself, shaking his head. Man, it felt like someone was raking coals over his delicate outsides and then pressing them in deeper, deeper… like a really nasty itch he just couldn't reach. It wasn't an itchy itch but rather something that felt… like... It felt like he really needed to just get the fuck out of this room.

Closing his eyes, Dean bowed his head, counting to ten. He jumped when Sam slapped his palm against the door.

"You can't hide in there forever, Dean, we're going to the Bellagio."

At the mention of the hotel's name, Dean felt a chill race up his spine. The Bellagio. Where Buffy was. Buffy… his wife. Dean furrowed his brow, his mind racing through the past few days. Waking up next to her in her hotel suite, touching her lovely flesh, wanting her, needing her, hell, wanting to just eat her up right there. And then the kissing, the holding, the moving around, the…

And then realizing they were married. And then realizing she had super freak strength. And then getting punched in the face. And then getting slapped. And then realizing that something supernatural really was probably going on…

Dean shook his head to clear his thoughts but it did nothing to help. He wanted to just rip his shirt off to get it away from him quicker but he undid the buttons, his fingers suddenly clumsy and sweaty and he barely got it off in one piece before throwing it in the corner. Goddamn, it was doing nothing for this ridiculous heat.

"What the hell, Sam?" he yelled through the door as he banged it once with his fist. He could practically hear Sam rolling his eyes on the other side. "Grow some goddamn balls and turn the heat down."

"The heat isn't on, dumbass," he heard his muffled reply from the other side and Dean paused, but just for a minute before unbuttoning his pants and kicking them off. He turned on the shower, the water beating against the rusty tub but he didn't get in. He just stared at it, feeling the strongest sense of déjà vu from the morning when he woke up with Buffy… in bed.

Except this time he wasn't wearing a wedding ring. And this time he wasn't nearly as confused about what his body was telling him. Dean didn't need a shower. The moment his mind lit up on her face, the fire abated some. It retracted its claws and he felt a strange sense of clarification.

Buffy. Wife. Bed.

Sam knocked hard on the door again, leaning against the jamb as he waited for Dean to respond but nothing came. He heard the water running but it didn't sound like he had stepped into the spray yet. "Dean?"

The door swiftly opened and Dean pushed past him, wearing only his boxers. Sam turned to watch him grab his duffle bag, pulling out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He shrugged the jeans on as Sam said, "What the hell is going on with you?"

"Nothing," he replied gruffly. He abruptly stopped and turned to face Sam. "Why don't you go get us some food?"

"What? Where did that come from, random?"

"Man, I'm starving," Dean replied, his voice forcedly jovial. Sam just stared at him and Dean made a face. "Just go next door, dude, what's your problem?"

"Um, okay," Sam replied. He took a stutter step before changing his mind. He gave Dean a stern look. "We're still going to go talk to her tonight."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yes, dad, I know. Now move it, Sammy, so we can go…" Dean paused, his eyes dancing all over the room, not sticking to one spot. "Talk."

Sam narrowed his eyes, his mind racing but he still nodded. "Alright. I'll be right back."

"Yeah."

"Literally two seconds."

"I get it," Dean snapped as he tugged the shirt over his head. Sam slipped into some shoes, grabbing his suit jacket. Dean didn't see the look Sam shot him before he left the room. Instead, Dean waited until he heard the door close before grabbing his favorite leather jacket and shrugging it on. The heat was suddenly not such a big deal anymore as he leaned down to shove his feet into his boots.

He just… knew.

It was almost like he was on autopilot as Dean snagged the Impala keys from inside his wrinkled suit jacket. Almost like his body was walking, talking, doing the actions for his brain as his mind focused on one thing…

Buffy.

* * *

Dean knocked on the hotel room door. He just stared at the room number, the numbers 1131 blurring together when he didn't blink. Nothing happened for a moment until he heard somebody pulling back the deadbolt on the door and it swung open.

Buffy stood before him, looking gloriously rumpled from being asleep. Dean didn't take a moment to note that it was only 6 p.m. or that he had no fucking business there. She just stared at him, her face the color of shock before melting into confusion and then annoyance.

She licked her lips and Dean stared at them.

"What-"

She didn't finish as Dean stepped forward, his hands coming up, one slipping around the back of her neck, the other cupping her cheek as he kissed her. Hard, painfully and Buffy stiffened for a moment before her own fire started, her skin erupting as she responded.

They fell into the room, the door slapping shut behind them with a solid click.

The End


	12. Only Need

Only Need

By Bre

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. I don't own much of anything really. They belong to the minds of The Whedon and The Kripke.  
Rating: R/FR18 (overall)  
A/N: Made for my series What Happens In Vegas Series. Day 12 of 31 in the twistedshorts community on LJ where you post a ficlet/short (between 300 and 3,000 words) every day of August. Everything in this series is designed to be a one-shot but the plot line will follow the two characters throughout this revelation.  
A/N 2: Italics indicate flashbacks.  
A/N 3: Let me just throw this out there: I think the song for this series is "I Only Wanna Be With You" by Volbeat. Really, Buffy and Dean's entire relationship ever is this song, IMO. It will make more sense by the end of the series. :)  
Pairing: Buffy/Dean (BtVS/SPN Crossover)  
Word Count: 1,194  
Timeline: Post Season 7 for BtVS. Mid Season 2 for SPN.

Summary: TwistedShorts Challenge. Day 12: Buffy and Dean give in to something they can't name.

* * *

Dean Winchester felt his phone vibrating in the pocket of his jacket but he ignored it. It didn't matter who was calling, nothing mattered but the woman in his arms, the smell of her, the touch of her, the sensation of her lips biting at his, her fingernails dragging across his scalp, her little body fitting so wonderfully against his as the hotel door shut behind them.

The room was dark and cool as he slammed her against the wall. She made a tiny noise of pain but he didn't hear it. One hand gripped the back of her neck, pulling her closer as the other moved down her body, gripping her t-shirt in his fist, pulling her as close as he could. He just needed more. Needed so much more and he knew that this is what he had felt in his motel room – need and desire for her… for his wife.

Las Vegas fell away. The last few days fell away. Rationally, he was sure his own body should be retaliating from the injuries she herself had inflicted on him but the only thing he felt was her. And she felt damn good.

Buffy Summers broke away for air and they both gasped against each other as Buffy's hands were suddenly underneath his jacket, pushing it off and away. She could feel something vibrating in his pocket and it was annoying her… as was the large amount of clothes hindering her from touching him. God, how she just needed to feel his skin on hers…

Dean pulled away from her long enough to yank his jacket off and leave it in a puddle on the ground as he attacked her once more, his lips finding hers and she mewled with delight in his mouth. Working his hands around her waist, he was about to lift her when she suddenly swung him around, slamming him into the wall. He felt his back ache in protest, his head bouncing off the wall but he didn't pause and neither did she.

* * *

"Damn it, Dean," Sam Winchester started in on his brother's voicemail, "Seriously, dude, if you're at a bar, hiding, I will find you and I will kick your ass…"

* * *

Buffy felt her body thrumming with anticipation as Dean's hands slid up and underneath. They immediately found her bare breasts, cupping them painfully, squeezing her nipples and she broke the kiss, moaning in her pain but, once again, Dean didn't give her a chance as he picked her up in his arms by the waist. Buffy wrapped her legs around him, her arms around his neck as he turned around without direction. She felt her hip slam into a lamp and something crash with a loud shatter on the floor but neither paused. Neither of them cared.

* * *

"… I get that you're freaking out but we also have a missing girl case to worry about and since you married our number one lead…"

* * *

Dean didn't bother with ceremony as he dropped her on the bed before immediately blanketing her body with his. She bit his bottom lip and he growled, pulling away. Her face, a mixture of lust, amusement and desire, smiled back up at him, her skin glowing in the city lights as they cascaded through her window, the sun just a glow as it set. He licked his tender lip and she caught the action, doing the same before Dean ducked down, nudging her head up with his, knowing immediately where he wanted to go. He didn't wonder where it came from or why it was there. He didn't care. His rough stubble was painful on her delicate skin as he rubbed his face against her before he found that little spot on her neck – her scar.

Buffy's hips bucked against him, her legs wrapping tighter as he ran his tongue over the raised skin, her body responding instantly, warmth flooding her, as she rubbed herself against him. She felt him, hard and bursting painfully against his jeans, move his hips in time with hers and they both shivered in delight.

Snaking his hands up her body, Dean pushed her arms above her head, his hands trailing her hot skin until he reached her wrists. He gripped them painfully as he suddenly sucked too hard on her scar and Buffy let out a sharp yell, her body jerking underneath his. Dean smirked against her skin but his moment was short lived as Buffy broke his hold, pulling a maneuver he couldn't keep up with before he was shoved away from her, almost rolling off the bed. Almost exactly as he had done the morning he had first woken up with her.

The only difference is now they knew each other's first names, they weren't wearing wedding rings and they were both more than ready to reenact what had probably happened that night.

Buffy followed him, straddling him and she reeled back, punching him across the other side of his face, the un-bruised side, and Dean let out a groan before Buffy's mouth was on his again. And just like that, the pain didn't matter.

She moved her body seductively over his, her entire length rubbing against him and Dean's eyes rolled up, his hands sliding up her thighs, soft and warm, and underneath the loose shorts she was wearing. He cupped her ass, tugging her closer against him as he raised his hips to meet hers.

"Dean," she gasped against his lips and he felt something inside him break at the sound and he rolled her over again, pushing her deep into the mattress, his fingers digging painfully into her upper thighs as he moved against her.

"Damn it," he breathed when he broke the kiss. His jeans felt like their number one job in their existence was suffocating him as they were now. Buffy felt his hot breath against her face and she arched her back, pressing her chest into his. Dean pulled back, just enough to get leverage on his knees before reaching down and yanking her shirt up. She felt him pulling on her hair, the shirt twisting and catching her arm painfully as he tore it off her but she didn't care. Instead she sat up, her fingers flying to his jeans. The second she had them unbuttoned, Dean pushed her away, his hands flying to her shorts.

* * *

"… We will have to eventually talk to her since it's just a little suspicious." Sam's voice was full of patient sarcasm. "Just… call me when you get this."

* * *

The heat in the room was becoming unbearable. The energy was becoming too much. Time lost meaning as Buffy and Dean sought something in each other's arms, something they couldn't put a name to, something they didn't care to stop and think about. They just couldn't stop touching the other. Clothes were ripped and thrown away. There was a deep rending sound as the sheet was torn when Dean pulled Buffy closer, her nails digging into the rich cloth.

There were bruises, cuts, scratches… but they didn't feel any of it.

They only felt each other.

The End

Final A/N: Haha, as I re-read through this, it's actually such a silly concept, it's almost cracky. If people are interested enough, I'll continue the crackiness since A Rush of Blood to the Head is getting so dark and heavy. :D


End file.
